


Forgiveness

by tjlyricz



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Childhood Trauma, Confused Zuko (Avatar), Coping, Father-Son Relationship, Forgiveness, Friendship, Future Character Death, Gen, Hurt Zuko (Avatar), Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, Ozai changing into maybe not being a total monster?, Unresolved Tension, Zuko (Avatar) Needs a Hug, should forgiveness even be a thing?, struggling to forgive
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:54:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 35,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27184124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tjlyricz/pseuds/tjlyricz
Summary: Ozai’s voice shook. “I…I don’t want to forget that you’re my son.”Zuko’s vision blurred. “Why don’t you want to forget me?” The words cracked as they came out of his mouth. He didn’t understand why he was getting emotional over this.Ozai buried his face in his hands as he fell to the floor. “Because,” Ozai’s tone grew timid, “I love you.”(What does a Fire Lord do when he learns that his abusive father is dying from an incurable disease? Zuko still cares for Ozai, really, he does. But should he forgive him after everything Ozai did to his family and nation?)
Relationships: Ozai & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 46
Kudos: 134





	1. The Fade

Chapter 1: The Fade

It’s been six years since the end of The Hundred Year War, and Ozai is sick. Correction, he is _very_ sick. He isn’t the same man Zuko put in the dungeon years ago. The monster that was his father shifted to something else in the past year, something closer to a human than a monster. It’s been a slow change, one that Zuko hardly noticed until about a month ago. Recently, Ozai stopped cursing Zuko as he walked through the door. He stopped mocking Zuko for wearing the Fire Lord crown with pride. He even started saying good-bye when Zuko would leave rather than spit in his direction.

Sometimes Zuko thought that maybe Ozai’s time in the cell was helping him see the better parts of himself, perhaps like what happened to Zuko when he was banished…but Zuko didn’t want to get his hopes up. The walls that surrounded Zuko’s heart and pride stood strong. His father broke him down once, Zuko wasn’t ready for him to do it again.

But the last time Zuko saw his father was…different. The last time Zuko saw him, Ozai was drawing pictures on the floor of his cell with a long piece of wet straw. When Zuko asked what he drew, Ozai only looked up at him with a sad, almost sincere smile…

…and said nothing.

 _Nothing_.

He only looked up and smiled. It was a smile of what could have been mistaken for genuine pride or maybe even love for his son, and Zuko didn’t know how to respond to it.

The following morning, Zuko’s eyes narrowed at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Why was Ozai smiling like that? Why? Zuko couldn’t help but be skeptical. He couldn’t help but feel like there was some underlying purpose for Ozai to give him _that_ type of smile. A smile that he hadn’t seen since…well…since he was a small child, since before Ozai held the Fire Lord title, before power killed the good father that could have been. There must be some hidden agenda, but what?

Irritation pricked at the corners of Zuko’s brain while he replayed the memory in his head. He closed his eyes, dropping his body to the bathroom floor. He started heaving again. This would happen every now and then after he would have a particularly hard visit with his father. Not knowing how to process that smile was doing a number on Zuko.

_Ozai’s smile_.

A nervous knot had formed in his stomach. It tied confusion and irritation into a perfect painful little bow right behind his navel. He clung to his stomach, trying to knead out the knot. “Come on, Zuko, pull yourself together…” After a few deep breaths, Zuko collected himself and went into his sleeping chambers. He had a morning full of meetings before going to see his father. He put on his shirt, pants, and Fire Lord robe. His fingers worked his hair into a neat bun as best they could. The small hairpin crown laid peacefully on the stand next to his bed. He let out a tiny sigh, putting the crown in his hair.

Now he was ready. Zuko walked out of the room with his back straight and head held high. The knot in his stomach gradually unraveled itself.

The guards greeted him when he opened his door. “Thank you,” Zuko replied. “I won’t be back for a while.” He walked the halls alone, occasionally passing a member of his royal staff. He knew almost all of his staff by name. It was his goal to make sure that everyone felt welcomed under his command, that they could feel like they were more than pawns in a game as he was sure his father did when he was in power.

_Ozai’s smile._

Zuko’s eyes dropped to the ground after passing one of the maids. He rubbed his temples, letting out a small groan. The knot was back.

 _Why are you smiling at me like that?_ Zuko thought, jaw slightly clenched. _What did you do?_

“Um, Fire Lord Zuko?” A concerned voice asked. “Are you okay?”

Zuko looked up to find one of the newer guards at the throne room’s door. “Ah, yes,” Zuko swallowed with a nod. “Yes, I’m fine.” He put his hands back to his sides. “Is everyone already in the throne room?” He pointed to the door.

The guard nodded in response. “Yes, sir,” he leaned over and pulled the door open. “They are ready when you are.”

Zuko thanked the guard before walking into the room. His councilmen were all gathered around the table with their blank scrolls, ready to take notes and provide insight to their Fire Lord. Zuko sat down on the throne with a thump. The tips of his fingers curled themselves onto the edge of the throne’s arms. “Thank you all for being on time,” he started. “I apologize for my tardiness.” His back straightened in his chair. “Now, where are we on the treaty from last week?”

Zuko took charge in the beginning of almost every meeting before settling down to hear what his councilmen had to say. He would nod and give his opinions on what was said. He would accept ideas on diplomatic suggestions and then reject those that had any resemblance of what his predecessor would have done. Zuko made it clear from the beginning he would never become the ruler his father was.

Never.

There were times during the meetings where he would stare at the seat that was once his as a child, the one where he defied the room’s order, when he spoke out of turn and voiced an unpopular opinion, an opinion that would have saved the lives of soldiers of the Fire Nation…The seat that would lead to a whole new level of his father’s cruelty…

The last meeting finished on a positive note. The Fire Nation had solidified a summit meeting date with the leaders of the other nations to discuss new trading policies. When the last person left, Zuko walked over to the table. His fingertips grazed over its smooth surface. He walked around the table until he came to the seat that changed his life.

Zuko sat down and looked over at the throne, taking his crown out from his hair, letting its jagged strands drape over his ears and shoulders. “You,” he mumbled, remembering the disappointed, furious look on his father’s face so many years ago. “You have no right to smile the way you did.” But the image of his father’s almost gentle smile flashed over and over again like a haunted visual mantra in the back of his skull each time he blinked.

_That smile._

_That smile._

_Ozai’s smile._

Zuko shook his head, trying to shake the image loose. He reached for his scar, his fingers brushing the tight skin. With a strong grunt, Zuko pushed himself from the table and put the crown back in his hair. He had a prisoner to visit.

................

It wasn’t a bad day for a walk to the dungeons. The fresh air gave him some semblance of peace until he reached the prison doors. He walked down the different corridors before reaching his father. Most of the cells were empty. Ever since Zuko became Fire Lord there had been less arrests. There was more freedom under his rein. And that’s just what he wanted.

A healer had just closed Ozai’s door, leaving the guard to watch over the room. She was turning to leave when Zuko called for her.

“Hey!” He ran up to the woman.

Her name was Jo. Jo came to the Fire Nation from the Northern Water Tribe a year after the war ended. She had long, dark brown hair that she always had tied in a high bun. Her brother had fallen in love with one of the maids from the palace, and Jo wanted to make sure he wasn’t in the capitol alone. When she told one of Zuko’s councilmen that she would like to find work in the capitol, Zuko was more than happy to secure her a position at the prison. Jo was one of the best healers they had. 

She turned around and did a quick bow. “Fire Lord Zuko,” her voice was unusually quiet.

“How…um…how is…?” He didn’t know how he wanted to finish his question. He didn’t know what kind of tone to use. Should it be filled with concern? Compassion? Indifference?

Jo sighed, tucking a runaway hair back up into her bun. “I’m sorry, Fire Lord, but his condition is worsening...The disease has spread to his brain…His cognitive functioning has been compromised…”

Zuko’s remained silent for just a moment. _Cognitive functioning…that doesn’t sound good_.

He cleared his throat. “What does that mean?”

She gave Zuko a pitiful, sad expression.

He hated being looked at with pity. He had it enough when he searched for the Avatar. He had it enough when strangers would see his scar. He didn’t need it now that he was the ruler of the Fire Nation. Zuko repeated himself, this time squinting his eyes. “What does it mean, Jo?”

“It means,” Jo said gently, hearing the tension in Zuko’s voice, “It means that soon he won’t be able to understand what you say, you won’t be able to understand what he _tries_ to say. He’ll…his personality will change…he won’t be the father that raised you…to an extent...”

His eyebrows pulled together in the center of his forehead. He tried taking in her words, his heart pounding a little faster than before. _He won’t be the same that he—?_

“I didn’t want to tell you this until I was certain,” Jo continued. “I had to run some tests, and now I know for sure.” The healer took a deep breath. “I have only seen this disease once before…They call it The Fade.”

“The Fade?” Zuko cocked an eyebrow.

Jo nodded. “Yes,” she cleared her throat. “It will get to the point where he won’t remember who you are…His body will not remember to do simple tasks like breathing or swallowing…”

Zuko’s eyes widened as a lump formed in the back of his throat. “Oh…” The muscles in his chest tightened.

“Ozai cannot be helped anymore. My healing abilities have no effect on the brain.” The woman put her gaze to the floor. “All we can do is wait.”

His forehead wrinkled. “Wait?” Zuko asked. “Wait for what?”

“Wait for the inevitable, Fire Lord.” Jo kept her gaze down. “Once he starts having trouble eating food, once he has trouble swallowing…he will be gone in less than a year…I’m sorry…”

Zuko remained silent. Whatever little sounds that echoed in the hall were blocked out. He remained in silence as he processed her words.

_The inevitable. He’s my father...He would deserve that kind of fate though, wouldn’t he? If there was such a type of justice in this world. Thousands of people would cheer to hear this news. I mean after everything…After everything he’s done…But…But I don’t—_

“I have another prisoner to visit,” Jo broke the silence, cutting off his train of thought. “I must leave.” Jo slowly raised her eyes to his.

The faint sound of dripping water from the cells touched Zuko’s ears, bringing him back to the present. He blinked a few times before nodding. “Yes, yes of course,” he lightly grabbed her shoulder before letting her go. “Thank you for all your help.”

Jo gave another quick bow and promptly went down the hall.

A sigh worked its way out of Zuko’s lungs. He turned around and walked to the entrance of his father’s room. The guard watching over him kept his eyes on the wall.

“Hello Ryder,” Zuko approached the man. Ryder was tall and built like a mountain.

Zuko requested that Ryder watch over his father’s cell seven months after he became Fire Lord. Not surprisingly, there had been multiple assassination attempts on Ozai’s life. Zuko wanted to keep his father safe despite Ozai’s actions. Ryder took the position without question, grateful that he could serve Fire Lord Zuko.

The built man gave a quick bow. “Hello Fire Lord, your father is ready for you.”

Zuko waited for Ryder to open the door, nodding as he prepped himself to enter. 

Zuko took three deep breaths through his nose before letting them slowly pass between his lips, just like he did every visit before stepping into the room. His eyes adjusted to dimness of the cell. Not too much light managed to wiggle its way in. He fixated his attention to Ozai, who was hunched over, sitting crisscross on the floor. As Zuko got closer, he could hear Oazi humming something to himself. For a moment, Zuko could have sworn it was a lullaby his mother used to sing to him as a child.

“Hello Father…” Zuko began, his voice low. He walked up to the cell bars. “I just saw Jo…She said—”

“Zuko!” Ozai stood up. He had been drawing pictures on the floor again. His tired, amber eyes looked at Zuko. A small smile took place on his lips.

Zuko swallowed. “What were you drawing?” He pointed to the floor.

Ozai glanced down at the figures he drew. Then he looked back at Zuko. “You are my son.”

Ozai’s hair was longer now, strings of gray weaving themselves into the mesh of black. Dirt clung to the space underneath his fingernails. A faint beard started to raise on his cheeks to accompany the hair on his chin. He was thinner than he was last week.

“I don’t have much time to talk,” Zuko stated bluntly. “I have a meeting that I have to prepare for tonight and—”

“Zuko,” Ozai breathed. “You are my son.”

Zuko’s chest tightened again. “How are you doing?” He disregarded his father’s statement with a cough.

Ozai only stared at his son. “Where is your mother?”

Zuko raised his eyebrows before clenching his jaw and scrunching his brow. “Why do you care?” His knuckles cracked. _Maybe this is his motive. He wants to get to her._

The corner of Ozai’s lips sagged. “She is my—”

“No! She isn’t yours!” Zuko snapped in a roar. “You don’t get to ask about her!”

Ozai jumped back as Zuko’s voice escalated. He almost looked scared.

Zuko took in his father’s state. It was pathetic. _He_ was pathetic. Zuko didn’t know how to process this.

Jo’s words worked their way to the forefront of Zuko’s brain.

_Wait for the inevitable, Fire Lord…_

He released his grip, relaxing his knuckles. “I’m…I’m sorry…” Zuko stepped closer to the cell. His fingers wrapped themselves around the cool bars. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you…”

Ozai stared at Zuko with sad eyes. The sick man took a step forward. “I’ve hurt you…” Ozai dropped his gaze to the floor. “I’ve hurt a lot of people…” His confession stirred something inside Zuko’s stomach, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was. Maybe it was surprise? No, no that wasn’t it.

“You are my son.” His father whispered.

The tightness in Zuko’s chest twisted again.

Ozai reached for his son’s fingers. Zuko almost pulled them away, but he didn’t. He let his father touch him. It was a strange feeling, his father’s touch. Something was different this time. This time it was nurturing, as if he were consoling him.

They stood in silence for an agonizing minute.

“Zuko…” Ozai started, “I know what Jo told you.” He took a shaky breath. “It won’t be long now.” His eyes hadn’t left the floor yet.

Zuko responded to his father’s words with more silence. Processing.

“I, I, I can’t remember...”

Zuko narrowed his eyes again. “Can’t remember what?”

Ozai’s gaze met Zuko’s, his eyes glazed over with shame. “Your mother’s name,” he whispered. “I-I can’t remember her name.”

Zuko didn’t think the pressure in his chest could grow any more than it already had, but he was wrong. There was pain now. His grip on the bars stiffened. Something was building behind his eyes. He didn’t want to admit the emotions gathering within him as he debated whether he should tell Ozai his mother’s name.

_He won’t remember who you are…_ Jo’s voice echoed.

_It must be scary,_ Zuko’s thoughts pondered. _It must be scary knowing that you’ll forget—_

Zuko cleared his throat.

“Her name is Ursa,” he replied curtly.

“Ursa?” Ozai repeated for confirmation.

Zuko nodded. “Yes, that’s her name.” 

“Ursa,” Ozai gave a sad smile. “Thank you, Zuko.”

But Zuko couldn’t stop there though. If Ozai wanted to know about his mother, he was going to make sure Ozai remembered what he did to her. “You banished her, Father.” Zuko’s tone was harsh. “She let you _banish_ her so you would spare _my_ life.” The tension in his fingers grew with every word he said. “You were going to _kill_ me for the throne. Do you remember that?”

Ozai pulled his hands back. His lower lip trembled. “You’re my son…”

Zuko kept his pressing grip on the bars. “Why do you keep saying that?” The question rattled in his chest.

His father shook his head. “I don’t want to forget.”

A new knot formed in the pit of Zuko’s stomach. He started to feel uneasy. “Don’t want to forget what? Me?”

Ozai’s voice shook. “I…I don’t want to forget that you’re my son.”

Zuko’s vision blurred. “Why don’t you want to forget me?” The words cracked as they came out of his mouth. He didn’t understand why he was getting emotional over this. 

Ozai buried his face in his hands as he fell to the floor. “Because,” Ozai’s tone grew timid, “I love you.”

That did it. That was the straw that broke the ostrich horse’s back. Tiny tears skid over the rims of Zuko’s eyes and trickled down his cheeks. The metal bars grew hot. The room felt like it was spinning. A hammer pounded his skull. His grasp on the bars tightened and tightened as if he were trying to squeeze the life out of them. He turned his head to the floor, gritting his teeth. “You _what_?” Zuko’s throat hurt from trying not to cry. He couldn’t look at his father. He tried to hold himself together, but it wasn’t working.

“You’re my son, Zuko, Fire Lord of the Fire Nation,” Ozai stated faintly. “And I love you.”

Zuko shook his head, eyes still down. “No,” he grunted after a few moments of silence. Sure, Zuko hoped that Ozai’s time here would help change him, become the father he could have been, but to this extent? Did Zuko really expect his father to change _this_ much? Was Ozai really capable of showing love? _Genuine_ love for his son?

“I-I know I haven’t done a good job of showing it, but—”

Zuko threw his head up, tears now flowing freely from his eyes. “ _You think_?” His voice fractured into loud shards throughout the room. The cool bars were now bright orange around his hands. “You always loved Azula!” he spat. “ _She_ was your favorite! Don’t you remember what you told me? She was _born_ lucky; I was lucky to _be_ born!”

Ozai was on his knees with his head bowed. “I remember…”

Zuko tried to stop crying. He tried taking deep breaths to calm himself down. Why was Zuko reacting like this? His father is sick. He’s dying. He’s apparently changing. Ozai just said he loved him. Isn’t this what Zuko always wanted? His father’s love? Maybe Ozai’s time here _has_ made him think about his actions. Or maybe…?

“Guilt,” Zuko snorted, wiping the tears from his face with his shoulder. “That’s what this is. Guilt.”

“No!” Ozai argued. “I always cared about you, Zuko.”

Zuko scoffed and bit down on his lower lip, wiping off the leftover tears with the heels of his hands. He tasted blood before letting go of the now-steaming cell bars. “I have a meeting to get ready for.” With his back turned, he said, “I’ll be back next week to see how you’re doing.”

“I mean it, Zuko!” Ozai cried after him. “I love you!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! So I am actually writing this as a way to cope with my own current internal struggles. My father was diagnosed with frontotemporal degeneration (FTD) a few years ago. It’s a rare, fast-paced form of dementia. My father was never to the extent that Ozai was, but I definitely went through my own form of trauma. Writing this has been really helpful in my coping process! If you’re curious and want to learn more about FTD, here is a useful website: https://health.usnews.com/health-care/patient-advice/articles/what-is-frontotemporal-dementia (Please note that my depiction of “The Fade” is not supposed to be an exact representation of FTD, although some of the behaviors I have Ozai do are very similar to how my father behaves now.)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please feel free to let me know your thoughts/what you liked so far :)


	2. Conflictions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He was a s*** Fire Lord and an even s***tier father,” Zuko stated in a grumble. “So why am I upset that he’s dying?”  
> Sokka shrugged. “Didn’t you tell him you hoped he’d have time to think about what he’s done?”  
> The memory came to Zuko in a brief flash. He nodded.  
> “Well,” Sokka started, “You just told me has changed a bit.”  
> Again, Zuko nodded. “I mean Jo said that the disease could make his personality change…but yeah, I suppose he has changed in general…”  
> “So maybe this is you trying to figure out what you actually want to feel?”
> 
> (Ozai is sick. A healer diagnosed him with The Fade, a disease that will affect the parts of his brain that control his memory, personality, and eventually his ability to swallow and breathe. Death is inevitable. Zuko struggles with how to feel when this information is presented to him. How should he feel after everything his father has done to him and the nation he loves?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooooo! This chapter contains "bad" words, so just know that going in

Chapter 2: Conflictions

Zuko’s old grimace greeted him in the bathroom mirror the next morning after he tried drying himself off from his bath. He touched his scar. Tight. Red. Permanent. _I love you…_ Ozai’s words echoed through the caverns of Zuko’s mind.

His body shook. The towel around his waist slipped off his hips, leaving him vulnerable in more ways than one. Zuko clamped his hands down on the sink, hard, nails digging into the porcelain. The bowl almost broke off the wall. Steam slowly seeped through the bathroom and into his chambers.

_I love you!_ Ozai cried.

“No,” Zuko muttered, his eyes still glued to his reflection, to his scar. Bits and fragments of a growl built up in his chest. “No, you don’t get to say that. Not after you—”

_I love you!_ Ozai cried again.

“Stop it!” Spouts of hot air streamed out his nose.

_I love—_

“I said STOP IT!” He snarled.

_I love—_

“GrrRAH!” Zuko raised his hands above his head and smashed them into the tiled floor. His hands were burning when they crashed down. He repeated the process again and again until two large fist-shaped holes crushed the tiles beneath him. It was hard getting his breathing under control. Zuko collapsed on the floor and thrust his head against the wall. Whimpers spewed from his lips. No tears came this time. It was a dry cry, at least that’s what Zuko called it. When you cry but no tears fall.

His fingers got lost in his mass of wet, black hair. He squeezed his eyes shut while a gut-wrenching groan ricocheted off the four walls of his bathroom. The groan produced a gargling sound, one that Zuko hadn’t made since the day his mother left.

“Why?” Zuko asked to no one. “I don’t understand…” He threw his head against the wall again, this time hard enough to surely leave a bump at the back of his skull. He blinked and released his hair to massage the sore spot on his head. “I can’t do this alone…” Zuko made a silent confession. “Ugh, this doesn’t make sense!” He hissed at himself. “Why are you doing this?” Zuko stood up and stared into the mirror again. “You,” he pointed at his reflection, “ _You_ wanted him to love you, so why are you rejecting him now, hm?” His reflection pointed back. “WHY?” It yelled. The veins in his forehead and neck bulged underneath his skin.

Zuko cracked his knuckles and picked up his towel from the floor. He screamed into it. He screamed until his throat couldn’t take it anymore. His voice eventually gave way and he let the towel drop to the floor once more. One of his hands raked through his hair as he let out an exhausted sigh. He went over to his bed and threw on his usual Fire Lord attire before leaving the room.

The guards outside the door exchanged concerned glances. “Is everything okay, Fire Lord Zuko?” One of them asked in a timid voice.

Usually in a case like this, Zuko would lie. But today he didn’t. “No,” he replied. His throat sounded hoarse from screaming. “But I’m handling it.”

Zuko held onto his stomach until he reached the throne room. He had an hour before his first meeting of the day. He sent for an errand boy. When the boy arrived, he gave him instructions to find Sokka. “He’s in the house by the Fire Nation fountain,” Zuko directed, “It’s the only house with a Water Tribe flag hanging outside.”

The boy nodded and bowed. “Yes, sir.” And with that, the boy took off.

Zuko needed council, and who better than his best friend? Sure, he spent a year tracking Sokka and his sister down for housing the Avatar, but that was in the past now. Since then, Sokka has moved to the Fire Nation capitol to stay closer to Suki, the head of Zuko’s security team. Sokka had found himself a job as one of the Water Tribe’s ambassadors with Zuko’s help. Occasionally Sokka would travel back to the South Pole to check on what Fire Lord Zuko could do help their community prosper. One of the first things he did was help solidify the unity between the Northern and Southern Tribes. Sokka took pride in being a part of the process.

By the time Sokka arrived, it was time for a lunch break. Zuko front loaded his day with meetings so he had the rest of the day to review what his nation needed, along with what _he_ needed.

“Hey, Flameo-lord!” Sokka popped his head into the throne room.

Zuko gave a small smile when Sokka entered. “How many times have I told you not to call me that?” Zuko propped his scrolls of notes on the corner of the table. 

“Eh, I’ve lost count.” Sokka stretched his arms. “Ya know, I was having a wonderful nap before you woke me up.”

Zuko cocked an eyebrow. “It’s passed noon. My message got to you three hours ago.”

Sokka swatted his hand dismissively at Zuko’s comment. “Yeah, exactly,” he cracked his back. “So,” he yawned, “What’s up?”

The Fire Lord gestured to the door. “I’ll fill you in on our way to the dining hall.”

“Dining hall?” That caught Sokka’s attention. “Now we’re talkin’! I’m all ears!”

......................

Sokka was silent when Zuko finished telling him about his father’s progressive condition. Sokka’s blue eyes stared at the last portion of food in front of him. He looked defeated. His lips would start to move but then nothing came out. Zuko let his eyes drift off to the side. His plate still mostly full. He lazily pushed it to the side and put his elbows in the space in front of him. The heels of his hands pressed into the hallow gap between his eyebrows and eyelids.

“That’s…” Sokka sighed. “I’m sorry, Zuko.” He cleared his throat. “I had no idea you were going through all this.”

Zuko kept his eyes shut. “Yeah, well, I’m not exactly shouting it from the rooftops.”

“I can understand why,” Sokka took ahold of Zuko’s shoulder, making Zuko look at him. “Have you told anyone else?”

Zuko shook his head. “No,” his voice rasped. “The only other person who knows is Jo,” Zuko looked at his hands. “Maybe Ryder, the guard outside of my father’s cell.”

Sokka’s hand was still on Zuko’s shoulder. It gave Zuko a tight squeeze. “You know you’ve got us to fall back on, right?”

Zuko looked back at Sokka.

_Us_. He said _us_. Sometimes Zuko forgets that he has friends who care about him. Even after all these years, it escapes him that people could care for him the way his friends do.

“Yeah,” Zuko grinned. “I know.” He pulled his dish back in front of him to finish his food. “I’ll have to tell Uncle soon.” Zuko took a big scoop of his meal. “I haven’t told him yet. He’s been so happy at his tea shop.”

“He’ll want to know,” Sokka confirmed. “Ozai is still his little brother.”

Zuko nodded. “Yeah, I know,” he swallowed the food in his mouth. “Am I…” he hesitated. “Am I crazy for—?”

“For having feelings like an almost functional human being?” Sokka finished with a hint of sarcasm. “No, Zuko, he’s your father.” Sokka ate the remainder of food on his plate. “He did a lot of bad, bad things, but that doesn’t mean you can’t care about his wellbeing.”

A half-chuckle came from Zuko. “Since when did you start talking like Katara?”

Sokka rolled his eyes. “Seriously, buddy,” Sokka leaned back in his chair. “She’d tell you the same thing, and you know it.”

“You’re probably right…” Zuko took out the pin that made him Fire Lord. He stared at his reflection. His scar staring straight back at him. “He was a shit Fire Lord and an even shittier father,” Zuko stated in a grumble. “So why am I upset that he’s dying?”

Sokka shrugged. “Didn’t you tell him you hoped he’d have time to think about what he’s done?”

The memory came to Zuko in a brief flash. He nodded.

“Well,” Sokka started, “You just told me has changed a bit.”

Again, Zuko nodded. “I mean Jo said that the disease could make his personality change…but yeah, I suppose he has changed in general…”

“So _maybe_ this is you trying to figure out what you actually want to feel?” Sokka suggested.

Zuko pushed his food around with his fork. “Maybe…” A long sigh rolled off his lips.

“I know something that might help!” Sokka thrust his pointer in the air.

“What?” Zuko grabbed the crown from the table and pinned it back in his shaggy hair.

Sokka grinned. “We should have a sparring match! Like the good ol’ days!”

The idea tugged the edges of Zuko’s lips up into a small half smile. “I guess I could.”

“YES!” Sokka clapped his hands. “It’s been awhile since I’ve had the privilege of kicking your royal butt.”

“Mmmhm,” Zuko mumbled. “We’ll see about that.”

They finished cleaning their plates before heading to Zuko’s room to change clothes.

..............................

The next day, Zuko sent two messenger hawks with letters describing Ozai’s situation. The first letter was to his uncle, the second letter addressed to Sara, Azula’s nurse at the asylum. Azula made progress since the last time he heard from Sara. They didn’t need to keep her in a straight-jacket anymore now that she stopped picking fights with the non-benders. She deserved to know what was happening with their father. He didn’t think it was right to keep her in the dark.

It took less than two days for both recipients to respond. Uncle Iroh said he would leave his shop and come up to visit his brother by the end of the week. Sara said she would escort Azula to come by for a week or two by the weekend. In the meantime, Zuko kept himself busy with more meetings. He tried to keep his mind off his father, but most of the time he was unsuccessful. Nights were filled with staring at the canopy above his bed. When he thought he’d get to the point of being too tired to think, his body would reject the notion of sleep, throwing in spats of tossing and turning for hours.

Zuko woke up with dark circles under his eyes. The cool water from the bathroom’s basin tried its best to mend the rings.

_I love you._

He shook his head, as if that would stop the words from coming.

_So maybe this is you trying to figure out what you actually want to feel?_ Sokka’s suggestion rang in his ears.

“Hmph,” Zuko grunted.

Once he was dressed, he asked for the head maid to set up two rooms to be ready for his uncle and sister. After that task was addressed, Zuko found himself in the courtyard. The turtleducks swam gracefully in the pond. A mother watched over her turtleducklings. Zuko plopped himself down at the base of the tree close to the water. For a moment he was back with his mother. She taught him to be gentle to the creatures, that if anyone tried to harm him, she would be there to protect him. Zuko leaned back against the tree’s bark and admired the beauty of the animals in front of him. His eyes drifted to the fountain on the other side of the courtyard. For another moment he was back with his father. He couldn’t find his mother. She was nowhere to be seen. When he asked Ozai where his mother was, Zuko only received silence.

_I love you._

“Gah!” Zuko craned his neck back and thumped his head against the hard wood. He leaned forward, propping his knees up and pulling them into his chest. Deep breaths moved in and out of his lungs. _You’ll figure something out. You’ll—_

“Fire Lord Zuko,” a guard called.

Zuko sighed and stood up, patting off the blades of grass stuck to his robe. “Yes?”

The guard bowed. “I’m sorry to disturb you,” he apologized. “But Jo has requested you come see your father immediately.”

Zuko scrunched his eyebrows to the center of his forehead and nodded. “I will be there shortly. Thank you for telling me.”

The guard bowed again before heading back to his post.

“You’ve been seeing your father a lot lately.”

Zuko turned around to find Suki standing with her hands folded in front of her.

“Hi Suki,” Zuko greeted, his voice dull. “How did you—?”

“I have eyes on you all the time, Fire Lord,” Suki confessed. “The world needs you safe.”

Zuko rubbed his temples. “I didn’t know I wasn’t safe.”

“You _are_ safe, but precautions need to be in place to ensure that safety isn’t jeopardized.”

“Mmhm,” Zuko murmured, dropping his hands to his sides. “Well, I appreciate the time you’re taking to keep me safe.” He gave a heavy sigh, “But I have to go see my father now.”

Before he could turn around, Suki’s fingers wrapped around his wrist. He tried to pull away, but she was strong. “Zuko,” Suki started, her formal tone turned into one of a friend. “Is-Is everything okay?”

“No,” he said frankly, giving his arm another unsuccessful yank. “Why? Did Sokka tell you we talked?”

Suki shook her head. “No, he wouldn’t share anything you said unless you told him to.” Suki released his wrist. “But I know you’ve been seeing your dad more often these last several weeks, and I just thought I’d—”

“He’s dying,” the Fire Lord didn’t sugarcoat the situation.

Suki’s eyes widened, her mouth now agape.

Zuko continued. “He’s dying and I’m trying to make sense of it.”

Just like Sokka, Suki was left with nothing to say. Zuko watched her lips start to move but make no sound.

“You don’t have to say anything, Suki,” Zuko offered in a hoarse voice. “I have to go.”

He didn’t give her time to respond before he walked out of the courtyard.

...........................

His pace was faster than usual on his way to his father. Tiny droplets of sweat streaked down the side of his face as he walked down the corridors. When he got to the cell, Jo was there biting her thumbnail.

“You sent for me?”

Jo’s eyes snapped to Zuko. “Thank you for coming, Fire Lord.” Jo nodded at Ryder who opened the door. “I have someone to see you, Ozai.” Jo gave Zuko a gently nudge with her hand on the center of his back.

Zuko gave a small, low gasp. He wasn’t prepared to talk to Ozai. Jo didn’t tell him anything before pushing him towards his father. She didn’t let him do his usual breathing routine before going in. The crown in his hair felt heavy.

Ozai was on the ground again, crisscross just like the time before. A strand of straw danced back and forth between his fingers before twirling something on the cell floor. His ears perked up at the sound of Jo’s voice.

Ozai’s eyes squinted before smiling, “Zuko! My son!”

“Spirits,” Zuko mumbled just below a whisper. “Hello Father,” he addressed his dad. “Um, Jo sent for me…” He looked over his shoulder to Jo who gave him an encouraging wave as a nudge to step forward.

Ozai got to his feet and jumped over to the bars. “You’re my son! How are you doing? You’re Zuko. That’s your name.” There was excitement in his voice.

Zuko swallowed and nodded. “I’m tired,” he stated. “How are you doing?”

Ozai blinked with a smile still on his face. “You’re my son,” he tapped the bars. “You are Zuko.”

Threads of frustration and sadness tied another tiny knot in Zuko’s stomach. “Ah, yes, I am.” He looked down at the straw on the floor. “What are you drawing?”

His father remained silent.

Annoyance built up at the back of Zuko’s tongue. “Is that the same thing you’ve been drawing the last few times I’ve come to see—?”

“You’re my son, Zuko.” It seemed like Ozai was stuck in a loop. “You’re my son. You’re the Fire Lord of the Fire Nation.”

Zuko swallowed, harder this time. “Yes, you know that.” He cleared his throat with a grunt. “Anyway, was there something you wanted to—?”

“I’m proud of you, Zuko.”

A thread of confusion meshed its way into the growing knot at the pit of Zuko’s stomach.

_Oh, he’s proud of me now? Yeah, sure._

“Right…” Zuko responded through gritted teeth. “I am reminded of that every time I look in the mirror and I see _this_.” He aggressively pointed to his scar. “You were really proud of me then, weren’t you?”

Ozai frowned and took a few steps back. His chin pressed itself to the top of his chest. Was that shame? Or remorse? Was he actually expressing _remorse_?

“You’re my son…” Ozai wrapped his arms around his waist. “You’re my son…And I-I…I’m…I’m so…” His father took a very shaky, broken breath.

 _Wait._ Zuko’s eyes widened. _Is-Is he going to say he’s sorry? That he’s sorry for what he—?_

“Zuko is my son…You’re my son, Zuko. That is your name.”

 _No, of course not._ Zuko’s stomach dropped. He felt ridiculous for letting in even the tiniest bit of hope.

“I’m proud of you…” Ozai kept talking. “You’re…You’re my son…”

Zuko’s upper lip twitched and his heart pounded in his chest. This was too much.

“Ozai,” Jo piped in. “Zuko has to go now.”

Zuko spun around. “ _What_?” The word came out harsher than he meant it to. “I mean that’s _it_?” Zuko threw his hands up in the air. “Why did you have me—?”

“Tell your son good-bye, Ozai.” Jo cut him off, talking to Ozai as if he were a child.

Hot aggravation bubbled underneath Zuko’s skin. He looked back at his father, throwing his hands back down to his sides.

Ozai stared into Zuko’s eyes. A curtain of sorrow draped over them. “Good-bye, Zuko,” Ozai sighed. “I love you.”

_I love you._

_I’m proud of you, Zuko._

It was hard to swallow again. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Zuko’s teeth clamped down on each other in an attempt to stifle a growl. He said nothing as he left the room. “Close the door, Ryder.” Zuko demanded, his tone like ice.

Ryder did as he was ordered.

Zuko turned his attention to Jo who was now walking to the exit of the prison.

“What the _hell_ was that about?” Zuko almost roared. “Why did you bring me to see him? What was so important that I had to see him? Why did you have me do that to only spend less than _five_ minutes with him?” At this point Zuko’s hands had balled themselves into tight fists. He could feel his face getting red. 

Jo’s eyes flickered with hesitation. “Did…Did you notice?” Jo answered his question with a question.

“Ugh!” Zuko hated responses like that. His uncle gave them to him more often than he’d like. “Notice what?”

“Your father’s words, Fire Lord.” Jo quieted her voice, probably in efforts to calm Zuko down.

“What about his words, Jo?” Zuko took in a deep breath and held it for a few seconds, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Did he repeat himself that often the last time you came to visit?”

Zuko let the breath out while reflecting on her words, releasing his nose. “I don’t know…Sort of…You didn’t really give me a lot of time to notice,” he grumbled, still clearly agitated. “But I guess not, at least not like that, like one thing after another…” At this point they had reached the outside. Zuko stared up at the sky. Clouds gently moved through the vast blue above them. Then he looked back at Jo. “Why? Is that important?”

Jo gave a grave nod. “In a matter of days, Fire Lord, in a matter of _days_ Ozai has gone from being able to talk about different topics in a conversation to only being able to focus on one at a time.”

Zuko only continued to stare. “…And that means…?” He knew what it meant. He knew it meant that his father is one step closer to the end. He knew that this meant his father is fading, fading faster than she probably anticipated. But he didn’t want to admit it. He didn’t want to acknowledge the truth. Not on his own.

“It means that The Fade is progressing faster.” Jo confirmed Zuko’s thoughts, her eyes refusing to leave Zuko’s. “And you hear how he’s talking to you…He’s not as…um…”

“Horrible? Hurtful? Full of rage and distain?” Zuko finished for her.

Jo dropped her eyes to her feet.

A blanket of quietness covered the following few moments before Zuko pulled it back.

“How much of that is actually him?” Zuko asked, cocking his shoulder towards the prison. “How much of that is _actually_ him talking and how much of that is The Fade?”

Jo let out a meek sigh. “I…I don’t know, Fire Lord.” Zuko could hear her swallow, eyes still looking down.

“Do you think maybe, maybe he…?” Zuko wanted to ask if she thought it was possible that those were Ozai’s _actual_ thoughts, his _actual_ feelings coming up. That Ozai _did_ care for him, that he _did_ love his son, that he felt bad for the treacherous things he’s done…But Zuko couldn’t ask. He was too afraid of what the answer might be. “Never mind.”

Jo fiddled with her thumbs. “I-I didn’t know it could be this fast…”

Zuko put both of his hands on her shoulders. They were stiff like stone _. I shouldn’t have lashed out at her. That probably scared her._ Zuko’s mind smacked itself in the forehead. “Jo,” he started, making sure his voice was soft. “You’ve done the best you can.” This helped her bring her eyes to his. A sigh escaped his mouth. “I…um…” Another hard swallow. “Thank you for getting me.” He released her, hoping this would assuage any discomfort she might have felt. “I’ve sent letters to my uncle and sister. They’ll be here to visit within the week.” Jo continued to look uneasy, so Zuko added, “You did a good job catching this when you did, Jo. Otherwise I wouldn’t have known.”

This seemed to help Jo relax. She nodded her head with gratitude. “Thank you, Fire Lord,” she bowed at the waist. “I’m sorry I can’t do more…”

“Please don’t apologize,” Zuko said. “None of this is your fault.” He patted her on the back. “You deserve a break. I’ll walk you back to the village on my way to the palace.”

Jo responded with a tiny smile.

............................

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner, Nephew?” Iroh wiped the beginning of tears from his eyes with the sleeve of his robe. They had just finished Iroh’s first visit seeing Ozai in over a year.

Zuko looked at his feet. A smudge made itself a home at the tip of Zuko’s boot. “I…I didn’t want to bother you.”

Iroh’s voice cracked. “He’s my brother, Zuko. You could have told me sooner.”

The crack in his voice made Zuko cringe with self-disappointment. “I’m sorry.”

His uncle placed a gentle hand on the back of Zuko’s neck while they walked through the entrance of the palace. “I will be here for you until his time has come.”

Zuko turned to Iroh with a confused expression. “But what about the Jasmine Dragon?”

Iroh stopped walking and turned Zuko to the side so that they could look at each other properly. Zuko could tell Iroh was reading his face, taking in the feelings Zuko was trying to sort through. Iroh squeezed Zuko’s arms. “I have an apprentice running the shop until I return,” he assured. “I’ll send a message to her to make sure the shop—”

“Her?” Zuko raised an eyebrow.

Iroh gave a small smile. “Do you remember Jin?”

A wild blush spread across Zuko’s cheeks. Jin was the girl that made him feel almost normal back in Ba Sing Se.

“Yes…” He coughed.

Iroh chuckled. “She’s a wonderful assistant. She’s almost as good as you were.”

The blush faded and a smile formed. “I’m happy you have help, Uncle.” Zuko gave Iroh a hug. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Father sooner.”

“Oh Zuko,” Iroh returned the hug. “Your heart was in the right place.” His squeeze tightened. “But I’m here now. You’re going to need support during this dark time.”

Zuko pulled back. His eyes looked to the ground again.

A momentary thick wall of silence built between them.

Iroh scrunched his nose and stroked his beard. “What is wrong, Nephew?”

The two men walked up and down the halls until making their way to the palace courtyard. Iroh didn’t pressure Zuko into talking before he was ready. The silence stayed until his nephew was ready to talk.

Zuko stared at the pond. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

The turtleduck mother looked at Zuko before disturbing the peace of the pond. Ripples upon ripples reflected off the surface of its water.

Iroh guided Zuko over to their familiar tree. Iroh sat down crisscross. Zuko sat down with his knees pressed against his chest, his hands pulling them closer to his center.

“What do you mean?” Iroh cocked his head to the side.

The reality of Zuko’s predicament hit him in a small wave, pushing his forehead down to rest on his kneecaps. “I don’t know how to feel…” His voice was muffled by the layers of clothes.

“Hmm,” Iroh pondered. “How to feel about what, I wonder.”

Zuko wrapped his arms around the top of his head, burying his face deeper into the fabrics that covered him. “How to feel about Father,” the Fire Lord confessed. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel.”

Zuko felt his uncle’s thick hand rub his back in a circular motion. It was soothing. Zuko could feel the tension in his body slowly dissolve bit by bit. Uncle Iroh did this a few times during Zuko’s banishment. It would usually happen when he felt sick. There were two times he felt his uncle rub his back in the middle of a nightmare. It would stir him awake but made him feel safe. Usually memories of his father during Agni Kai. It was in those moments that Zuko felt love, the love his father deprived him of. Uncle Iroh was his true father. That much he knew was sure. He was happy his uncle came to support him.

“There are no right or wrong feelings, Zuko,” Uncle Iroh began. “All emotions are valid and meaningful.”

Zuko released his head, propping his chin on his knees. “I don’t think mine are right, Uncle.” His throat ran dry, watching the turtleducks swim in a circle. “My feelings…they don’t make sense.”

His uncle’s hand left his back. “What emotions do you feel right now?”

Zuko kept his eyes on the pond. “I feel angry,” he started, eyes squinting. “I feel so angry.” This confession came out through clenched teeth.

“Mmmhm,” Iroh listened. “Angry about what?”

Zuko’s hands shook. His throat tensed. “I feel angry about the whole thing.” His words felt strained when they left him. “I’m angry that he’s dying, and I’m angry at myself for being angry _that_ he’s dying.” The confession made his voice start to break. “Shouldn’t I feel happy? Or-Or relieved?” The same, torturous knot came back full force in his stomach. Zuko coiled his arms around his legs and squeezed them tightly against his body. “He was horrible, Uncle.” He squeezed tighter. “Horrible! And yet here I am, angry that he’s sick!”

Iroh was quiet for a few moments, giving Zuko time to think.

“I spoke to Sokka about this the other day,” Zuko offered. “He thinks it’s okay that I care about Father’s wellbeing…” Then he groaned. “GRAH! But I shouldn’t! Right? Why should I care after everything he’s done! He took _your_ rightful place on the throne, he _burned_ me, his _child_! He _banished_ my mother. He brought up my sister to become a _monster_! Look what he did to our nation, to the _world_! Why do I feel this way?”

Iroh was about to speak, but Zuko wasn’t finished.

“I just—” Zuko’s knuckles were bright white under his already pale skin. “GRAH!” He flung himself onto his back and curled up into a ball on his side. In that moment, he didn’t care if his staff saw him. He was there with his uncle. His uncle didn’t care how vulnerable he was. His uncle encouraged it. He listened. Zuko tugged his legs up into his stomach and roughly wrapped his arms around his waist. “It doesn’t make any SENSE!” Dry tears remained unshed on his cheeks. “It’s not just anger either, Uncle. I’m angry, but I’m also sad. I’m sad that I’m losing my father. I’m sad that he’s going through this. He must be terrified…I’m angry, sad, and I’m torn about how to handle what he says!”

Iroh stayed silent.

Zuko spiraled. He could tell anything to his uncle. Anything at all. Free of judgement. Once he started talking, the words just kept spilling and spilling. “He said that he loves me…That he’s loved me this whole time, Uncle…” His vision became cloudy. Now he could feel the tears gathering, one by one building up on top of each other. “What am I supposed to say to that?” Zuko’s voice dimmed to just above a shattered whisper. “I…I can’t…GRR!” He growled. “He can’t undo what he’s done! He can’t take away the permanent scars he’s left scattered across this nation! That he’s left on _me_! ON US! He can’t turn back time and make everything okay and be the great father and Fire Lord he could have been!” This realization and the safe atmosphere his uncle created allowed tears to overflow off the rims of his eyes. His back bounced up and down while the rest of his body shook. Zuko tried to calm himself down but, once again, it wasn’t working. He had another confession to make. “…I-I-I think I’m scared…” Zuko sobbed, lips trembling. “Why am I scared?”

Iroh waited to make sure Zuko was finished before putting his hand on his nephew’s quivering shoulder. “You’re fighting an internal war, Nephew,” Iroh stroked Zuko’s shoulder with his thumb. “You want to feel like what is happening to your father is justified, that it is the universe’s way of setting balance back into the world,” he proposed. When Zuko didn’t protest, he continued. “Have you forgiven him?”

 _What?_ Zuko blinked. Did he hear that correctly? _Forgive Father?_ Zuko hadn’t thought of that. Forgiveness had never come up as an option before. After everything Ozai did to him and his family, to his nation. Forgive him? It seemed like a foreign concept. Maybe he’d get around to it one day, but not today. Not anytime soon.

Zuko unraveled his arms from his body, the stream of tears slowing to just a few trickles. “No,” he slipped his hands under his wet, scarred cheek. “I haven’t.”

Iroh stroked his beard.

Zuko glanced at his uncle as his body gradually calmed down. “Why? Do you think I should? Is that why you think I’m scared?”

Iroh shook his head, giving a small, sad smile. “Only you have the answers to those questions, Zuko.”

Zuko rolled his eyes in a quiet groan. He hated it when his uncle wouldn’t give him a straight answer. He understood why his uncle did it. But that didn’t mean he had to like it. 

“Why don’t we go inside, and I’ll make us some nice calming tea?” Iroh took his hand off Zuko.

Zuko was about to protest, but he didn’t. “Sure…”

The two men stood up and walked back into the palace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again! Thank you for reading the second chapter! Please let me know your thoughts on the story so far! :)


	3. Processing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Sokka told me you forgave the man that killed your mother.”  
> Silence was his response. Three seconds of silence before he heard her take a deep breath.  
> “Oh, um, yeah…I have…” She cleared her throat.  
> Zuko looked up at Katara, who now had her arms wrapped around her stomach. “Can I ask you why you forgave him? Or, or how you forgave him?”  
> Katara looked at him with empathetic eyes.  
> “I mean he killed your mother, Katara. You told Aang you would never forgive him…I just—I don’t understand how or why you did it…”
> 
> (Zuko observes a testing session with Jo and Ozai, leaving the prison more confused than before. Processing everything that's going on is taking a toll on him. How much of what he's seeing is Ozai? How much of it is The Fade? It doesn't help that Uncle Iroh's haunting question about forgiveness lingers in his thoughts. Zuko turns to Sokka and Katara for guidance.)

_I love you._

_I’m proud of you, Zuko._

_Have you forgiven him?_

“Oh would you please SHUT UP?” Zuko barked at the ceiling. It would be daylight in a few hours. Another reminder of Zuko’s lack of sleep. Another night of restlessness.

_So maybe this is you trying to figure out what you actually want to feel?_

_Only you have the answers to those questions, Zuko._

_I love you._

_I love you._

_I’m proud of you, Zuko._

_I love you._

_I love—_

Zuko turned onto his stomach and smashed his face into his pillows. “This is so messed up…” He mumbled, pulling the covers over his head. “This whole thing is fucking _toxic_.”

_Have you forgiven him?_

He responded to the haunting question with a grunt. His face pressed itself further into the crease of his pillows so he could breathe, his breath hot against the sheets. “What does forgiveness have to do with any of this?” The mattress below him gave no answer. Just as helpful as his uncle.

He chucked the covers and pillows away from him. Two hours later he got ready for combat training. Another five weeks had passed. Azula came with Sara four weeks prior. They decided to stay longer after her first visit with their father. She and Ozai talked as much as they could. Zuko was there to supervise from outside the cell. His father didn’t appear to mind showing Azula the little drawings he’d make on the floor. At one point, Zuko almost rushed over to hear what his father had to say, but he didn’t. That was their time to spend together. His favorite child was there for him.

Azula was leaving that afternoon. Sara packed up their things as Zuko got back from combat practice. Sweat coated his bare chest. His hair was a little longer now, lingering its way down to just below his shoulder blades. He bumped into Sara walking back to his chambers. “You don’t have to leave, Sara. You and Azula can stay as long as she’d like. I don’t mind.”

Sara smiled. “We have to get her back,” she started. “This trip has taken an emotional toll on her, as I’m sure you’ve experienced.” Sara took a step towards her door. “But we can return again in a month.”

Zuko nodded. “Alright,” his tone understanding. “I will send updates on his condition. If things start to take a turn for the worse, I would like her to be here.”

Sara bowed. “As you wish, Fire Lord.” She turned on her heel and walked into the room she shared with his sister.

It didn’t take long for Zuko to shower. He had upped the amount of times he’d visit his father from once a week to three times a week. He made front-loading his days with meetings the usual set up for his mornings. This gave him ample time to see his father without rushing from place to place.

The last time he talked to Jo, she said that Ozai was engaging in more repetitive behaviors, saying the same things over and over again like a ritual. When she’s tried to break that ritual, Ozai responded with frustration. Sometimes yelling, other times crying.

Uncle Iroh accompanied Zuko usually once a week. They both left one day where they would visit Ozai on their own. Today was Zuko’s day. Once he was dressed, he walked down to the prison. He knew the steps to his father’s cell by heart now. He could probably do it blindfolded. The need to take deep breaths before going into the room had simmered down. Every now and then the need would arise, but Zuko felt like he had decent control over the situation now.

_Have you forgiven him?_

He rubbed his temples as Ryder opened the door. “Thank you, Ryder.”

Ryder nodded.

“Hi Father,” Zuko walked over to the bars and sat down on the floor.

Ozai was drawing figures on the cell’s wall this time. Zuko’s eyes strained to make out what he drew, but he couldn’t see.

Ozai turned around. His eyes lit up when he saw Zuko. “ZUKO!” He laughed joyfully, “Zuko, my son!”

Zuko nodded. “Yes, Father, I am Zuko, your son.”

Ozai wrapped his fingers around the bars eagerly. “I am Ozai.”

Zuko’s cocked his eyebrows. This was the first time his father felt compelled to introduce himself to Zuko. “Ah…yes, you are Ozai.”

“I am Ozai, former Fire Lord. I have The Fade.” A proud grin grew on his face.

Zuko was at a loss for words. Was Ozai trying to make sure he remembered who _he_ was? Did Ozai want praise for remembering _his_ _own_ name? His titles?

“Ahh…uhhh…” Zuko coughed. “Um, yeah. You’re right. Good, ah, good job, Father.”

“Zuko, my son!” The grin continued to grow. “And, and Azula, my daughter.”

Zuko took a hard swallow. “Yes, I am your son. Azula is your daughter.”

Ozai’s fingers traced the bars. “I love you.”

Zuko cringed. The words still stung. Zuko couldn’t accept the statement. It wasn’t a true statement as far as Zuko was concerned. It was a guilt-ridden comment Ozai said once and now it’s become a part of one of the few phrases he can say.

“I am Ozai, former Fire Lord. I have The Fade.”

_Have you forgiven him?_

A familiar grunt formed at the back of Zuko’s throat. He was about to ask about the pictures again when he noticed a bowl of fireflakes untouched at the entrance of his father’s cell.

_It will get to the point where his body will not remember to do simple tasks like breathing or swallowing…_

_I love you._

_Have you forgiven him?_

_So maybe this is you trying to figure out what you actually want to feel?_

“Father,” Zuko ignored the voices in his head. “Are you not eating?” He pointed to the bowl full of food.

Ozai followed Zuko’s finger before looking back into his son’s eyes. “Zuko, my son. I’m proud of you.”

Frustration crept its way into the center of Zuko’s chest. He never found being patient an easy task. “Why aren’t you eating?”

Ozai only continued to smile. “Azula is my daughter.”

Zuko was about to ask the question again when Ozai interrupted his moment.

“Iroh, Iroh is my brother. Big brother.”

Zuko’s eyes widened slightly. _Does Uncle know about this?_

“Zuko, my son.” He held up his pointer finger. “Azula, my daughter.” Ozai held up his middle finger. “Iroh, my big brother.” He held up his ring finger with a smile on his face. “I am Ozai,” his father poked his chest with his index finger, “I am Ozai, former Fire Lord. I have The Fade.”

It was hard to watch. Was this _really_ all that his father was capable of now? Could The Fade _really_ work so fast that _this_ was the result in a matter of _weeks_? Just over a month has passed and he was already having trouble speaking more than a few phrases…Or at least that’s what it looked like.

“I love you!” Ozai beamed, hands reaching for his son.

“Knock, knock,” That was Jo’s voice.

Zuko turned around to face her. Whatever facial expression he had made Jo look at him with pity…again.

“What do you want, Jo?” Zuko scowled.

“This is usually the time I come in to check your father’s, um, progress…” She pulled three scrolls and a quill from behind her back and handed them to Zuko.

Zuko unrolled the scrolls to analyze what was on them. More confusion clouded his thoughts. The scrolls had paintings of shapes, animals, and sequences of firebending techniques. “What is this supposed to tell you?” Zuko perched an eyebrow when he handed the scrolls back to Jo.

The healer sat down next to Zuko. “If you’d like, you could stay and watch. Your uncle sat in on one once.” Jo placed the scrolls in front of her. “He left a little shaken, though.”

Zuko thought for a moment. _If Uncle can do, then so can I._ “I’ll stay, if you think that won’t distract him.”

“Zuko, my son!”

It took him a moment to realize they were talking about his father in the third person. Ozai was right there and they didn’t have him be part of the conversation. It made Zuko think about what he felt like when the adults around him would push him aside when he was a kid.

“Perhaps it would be best if you stood by the wall,” Jo pointed to where she thought he would best fit.

“Azula, my daughter!” Ozai stated.

Zuko nodded at Jo’s suggestion and walked over to his designated spot. 

Jo turned to his father. “Alrighty, Ozai, time to work on scrolls.” She pointed to the items in front of her. “Do you remember doing this last week?”

“I am Ozai, former Fire Lord. I have The Fade.” Ozai replied.

“That’s not what I asked you, Ozai,” Jo said. “Do you remember doing this last week?”

Ozai’s eyes trailed over to Zuko, who was now leaned up against the wall with his arms folded over each other. “I’m proud of Zuko.”

Zuko’s lips puckered at the statement as if the words were coated in a sour juice.

Jo sighed gently. “Okay, then let’s get started.” She flattened the scrolls on the floor. “Do you know where we are?”

Ozai smiled. “Yes!”

“Where are we, Ozai?”

“Yes!” The smile remained.

Zuko’s forehead crinkled.

“Okay,” Jo scribbled something on one of the scrolls. “What is my name?”

“Ozai, former Fire Lord. I have the—” Ozai chimed.

“That is _your_ name,” Jo prefaced, “What is _my_ name?” she repeated, this time pointing to herself.

Ozai nodded. “Yes.”

That same damn knot started to wind itself tight in Zuko’s stomach. This was becoming the new normal, and Zuko didn’t like it. He held his arms closer together.

“I am Jo,” Jo stated.

Ozai nodded. “Yes, Jo.”

“Good job, Ozai!” Jo beamed. “You’re doing great!” She reached through the bars to give Ozai’s knee a gentle tap. Then Jo turned the scrolls around so they were facing Ozai. Zuko took a step forward to see what she was going to do next.

“What is this a picture of?” Jo pointed to the Fire Nation symbol.

“I know,” Ozai replied.

A smile perked up on Jo’s face. “That’s wonderful, Ozai! Now tell me its name.” She pointed to the symbol again. “What is this a picture of?”

Ozai squinted at the scroll before looking back at Jo. “Yes,” was all he said.

Jo’s smile sagged to half-smile. “Okay,” she scribbled something on the scroll. “Alright, Ozai,” Jo continued. “What shape is this?” She pointed to a hollow circle.

“Yes?” Ozai’s tone started to lose its pip.

“I asked what this shape is.” She pointed to the shape again. “What shape is this?”

Zuko’s heart sunk watching all of this unfold.

“Yes…” Ozai crossed his arms, his voice reflecting aggravation.

“Okay, how about here? What is happening in this picture?” Jo pulled the scroll with firebending moves in front of Ozai.

Ozai grimaced. “What?”

Zuko swallowed despite the dryness in his mouth.

Jo took a deep breath. “What is happening in this picture?”

Ozai’s eyes narrowed, baring his teeth. “ _What_?”

Ah, ha! There! _This_ was the tone Zuko knew all too well. The tone that dripped with anger. He knew it was only a matter of time before his father showed his true colors again. Jo had mentioned The Fade affects the person’s personality, but deep down Zuko knew his father’s true self never fully left. This was proof of that. It had to be.

Zuko’s knuckles cracked under his robes. He couldn’t tell if he was relieved or disappointed to hear the familiar tone in his father’s voice.

“Okay,” Jo made a note on the back of the scroll. “Alrighty, Ozai, we are going to work on a story today.”

“I am Ozai, former Fire Lord. I have The Fade.”

Jo sat up straight. “I’m going to say a few sentences. When I’m done, I’m going to ask you questions. Are you ready?”

Ozai remained silent. His attention drifted back to Zuko.

Zuko huffed and shifted his gate so his father would pay attention to Jo.

“Okay, here’s the story,” Jo began. “Hera lives in a red house on a farm. She has four turtleducks. There is a glider on her porch. The names of her turtleducks are One, Two, Seven, and Li. Hera has a brother. His name is Tui. Hera and Tui live together. They sell fish at the market.”

Zuko’s lips parted and took a shaky breath, lifting an eyebrow. _What kind of story is that?_

“I’m going to ask you questions now, Ozai.” Jo stated.

“Zuko, my son. Azula, my daughter. Iroh, my big—”

“Look at me, eyes on me.” Jo prompted.

Ozai’s gaze burned into her, Zuko could tell. If his father could still bend, Jo would have been scorched by now. “Yes?” Ozai said through his sharp teeth.

_This must be the ritual she talked about…_

“What is the color of the house?”

“Yes.”

“Who is Hera?”

“ _Yes?_ ”

“What is the name of Hera’s brother?”

“I am Ozai, former Fire Lord. I have The Fade.”

Questions like this persisted for another minute or two. It boggled Zuko at how difficult these questions seemed to be for his father. The tension in his chest grew as her session came to an end.

“It was nice seeing you again, Ozai,” Jo stood up.

Ozai mumbled something under his breath before looking up at Jo. As fast as he turned angry, he turned back to smiling.

“Fire Lord Zuko, will you come with me?”

Zuko stared at his father. He thought she only said he’d forget how to do tasks. Why the fuck could Ozai not answer those stupid questions? It didn’t make sense. He watched as Ozai picked up a strand of straw and start drawing pictures again.

“Fire Lord?” Jo beckoned.

Zuko blinked and shook his head before turning his attention to Jo. “Yes?” His voice strained.

“Would it be possible for you to accompany me back to the palace?”

Zuko looked back at his father, who now had his back turned to the cell’s entrance.

Zuko let out a deep sigh.

“Can I have one more moment with him? Then I’ll walk with you.”

Jo nodded and gave a bow. “Yes, sir.”

Zuko tucked a stray hair behind his ear. It felt like his heart was thumping in his throat. Was that even possible?

He walked closer to the cell and crouched down on his kneecaps. “Father?”

Ozai turned around, eyes lighting up as if ten days had passed. “Zuko! Zuko, my son!”

Zuko felt wads of frustration gather up into a ball in the center of his throat. His eyes drifted to the drawing behind his father. “What are you drawing?”

Ozai just stared at Zuko.

“What is your picture of?”

Ozai smiled. “I love you!”

Zuko’s lips puckered again, annoyed and disappointed. “Fine,” he huffed, “Don’t tell me.” Zuko stood up and brushed off any rubble that clung to his robe. “I’ll be back later next week.” The Fire Lord watched as his father went back to drawing. “Good-bye,” he whispered.

Ryder closed the door. Jo had been waiting for him, holding the scrolls under one arm.

“Thanks for waiting,” Zuko sighed. “That was, um…I wasn’t expecting…” He rubbed the back of his neck.

“It’s a lot to process,” Jo jumped in. She used her free hand to gesture for them to walk down the halls.

Zuko took the hint and followed her lead.

“This disease…it’s complicated,” Jo started. “I’ve been in contact with some of the other healers around the world, healers scattered all throughout the nations.” Jo took a deep breath. “It would appear that The Fade is extremely rare. From what my sources have told me, each case has been slightly different than the others.” She readjusted the scrolls under her arm.

“Here,” Zuko held out his hand, “I can help you with those.”

Jo waved her free hand before putting it down to the other, making it easier to carry the scrolls. “Oh, it’s okay! I’ve got it now, thank you though.” She blew a strand of her hair out of her face and continued. “As you probably noticed, Ozai’s need to finish rituals has only increased.”

Zuko gave a grim nod. “You had mentioned that would happen the last time we spoke.”

“Right,” Jo confirmed. “What I didn’t realize was that the parts of his brain that help him speak also have an influence on recognizing items or following a storyline.”

The scrolls started to make sense. “So that’s why you used those with him? To see if that was one of his, um, problems?”

Jo nodded. “Yes, Fire Lord,” she fumbled with the scrolls as they walked up the stairs to the village. “I am afraid to say that I think it’s only a matter of time before his condition declines…”

Zuko thought back to the fireflakes. “He hadn’t touched some of the food that was left for him…Is that normal? For this?”

A grave nod was her response. “Unfortunately, it is the sign of his body rejecting salty food. He will start to crave sweets, desserts. If he doesn’t get those foods, he might not eat at all.”

Zuko’s head started to hurt. “So, he’ll starve himself if he can’t get a sugar tea muffin?” He stopped walking.

Jo tucked the scrolls back underneath her other arm. “In a way, yes…unless he chokes on the food because he can’t swallow. He might find them difficult to eat…That could be another reason he didn’t eat them.”

For a moment, it felt like the brutal fact punched him in the stomach. A picture of Ozai desperately gasping for air like a fish out of water, thrashing on the cell floor formed in Zuko’s mind. He shook his head, trying to get rid of the depressing image.

“I see…” Zuko didn’t know what to say next.

“I will continue to tend to him as best as I can, Fire Lord,” she placed a gentle hand on Zuko’s shoulder. “I promise.”

Zuko touched her hand with his. “Thank you.”

Their walk was pretty much quiet the rest of the way back. They parted ways at the Fire Nation fountain in the center of the capitol. Sokka’s Water Tribe flag danced with the tiny breeze that worked its way in and out of the crowded alleys. Since he had the rest of the day off, he decided to knock on Sokka’s door. He should be home by now.

“Gimme a sec!” Sokka called from behind the door.

“It’s not polite to keep the Fire Lord waiting,” Zuko knocked on the door again.

Sokka opened the door. He was tying his hair back into a wolf tail. Dried up drool cracked on the side of his mouth as he welcomed his friend into the home. He must have been napping. “Well greetings, your Royal Highness,” Sokka gave an extremely low, overdramatic bow.

Zuko responded with a small smile and sat down at Sokka’s dinner table.

“What did I do to have the privilege of speaking to the Flameo-lord?” Sokka closed the door and plopped himself on the other side of the table. “I was about to make a snack. You want something?” His thumb popped up to some jerky sticks on a shelf.

“No, I’m not hungry,” Zuko interlaced his fingers on the table. “I just got back from seeing my father.”

“Oh…” Sokka remained sitting. “How did that go?”

Zuko shook his head. “It was terrible…” he confessed. “It’s really bad, Sokka.” His eyes were glued to his fingers. “He basically says only five phrases over and over again…I watched Jo do this brain test thing with him…He completely failed it. That man used to be able to strategize like an insane criminal mastermind!” Zuko closed his eyes and squeezed his fingers, digging his nails into his skin. “And now…now he just…UGH! And he keeps saying that he loves me.”

He heard Sokka’s leg bouncing under the table. His friend’s witty, sarcastic tongue wouldn’t be able to help him here. Zuko let the silence sit until Sokka found the words he wanted to say.

“I’m really sorry, Zuko,” the words came out just above a whisper. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through…I don’t know how I would be dealing with it if this was happening to my father—”

“Your father is a great man, Sokka!” Zuko’s fingernails dug deeper. “You would be sad, brokenhearted, you and Katara would be together trying your best to make every moment count with him.” That wad of frustration made camp back in his throat. “My father was _shit_!” the strings in his voice snapped.

Sokka stood up and took a seat closer to Zuko. Another hand landed on his shoulder. How many times had someone tried to console him that way? It helped every now and then, and it did help ground him back to reality, but still.

“How are you feeling?” Sokka chose to not address the negative comments about Ozai. Zuko figured Sokka didn’t want to fan the flames.

“I’m feeling too many things at once, and it’s annoying.” Zuko admitted. He opened his eyes to look at his best friend. “My uncle asked me if I had forgiven him.”

Sokka cocked an eyebrow. “What did Iroh do that you’d have to forgive him?”

Zuko shook his head. “Not him, my father.” He looked back at his fingers. The nails released his skin, leaving small indents on the tops of his hands.

“Oh…gotchya…” Sokka plopped his elbows on the table next to his friend. “Do you want to talk about that? The forgiveness thing?”

Zuko released a heavy sigh, turning it into a harsh grunt. His hands balled themselves into tight fists. “I just—I don’t see _why_ my uncle would ask me that. What does it matter?”

Sokka tapped his chin. “Maybe all the feelings you have right now are connected with forgiveness…?”

The postulation hung in the air. The two friends let it hang there for a minute. Zuko knew the silence was for him to think about the words and what they meant to him. But no revelation came. 

Zuko tugged at the pin in his hair. He adjusted it before getting up from the table. “I’m sorry for barging in on you,” the Fire Lord pushed his chair back in place. “You’re probably right…Uncle wouldn’t have brought it up for nothing…I guess I’ll have to figure out the answer on my own.”

Sokka stood up. “You didn’t barge in on me, Zuko,” he stretched his arms. “You know I’m always here for ya.”

Zuko nodded and gave a tiny bow to Sokka. “And I appreciate it, more than you know.”

Sokka bowed back. But before Zuko left, Sokka said, “Wait,” and dashed in front of Zuko, blocking his path. “Why don’t we talk it out? You don’t have to figure it out on your own.”

Zuko grimaced. “Yeah, I do.” He tried to push Sokka aside, but Sokka was quick.

“Come on, buddy,” Sokka stood his ground. “You do this whole ‘oh I’m Zuko and I do everything by myself because I’m a strong, independent jerkbender who doesn’t need anyone else but me!’ thing anytime you feel like you’re burdening others.”

Zuko’s eyes turned to tiny slits. “I don’t sound like that.” His reply deadpanned.

Sokka rolled his eyes. “Just—Just sit down and we’ll work through it, okay?”

Zuko looked at the door over Sokka’s shoulder.

_I love you._

_I’m proud of you, Zuko._

_I love you._

_Have you forgiven him?_

_Have you—?_

“Fine,” Zuko grunted.

Sokka responded with a triumphant, but not overly cocky, smile. “Great!”

Zuko sat down in his original spot. “So, how do you think this is going to work, Mr. Plan Guy?”

“Well,” Sokka grabbed a few pieces of jerky and tossed them on the table. “Why don’t we start with you telling me what you thought when Iroh asked you if you forgave Ozai?” He popped a hefty portion of one of the sticks in between his teeth and yanked, chewing the meat while he waited for Zuko to answer.

Zuko mulled over what he was going to say. “I was surprised that he asked.”

Sokka took another bite of his jerky. “I see,” Sokka stroked his pretend beard. “Why were you surprised?” He asked with a mouth full of food.

“Because I had never thought about forgiving him before…” Even saying a version of the word “forgive” felt estranged coming out from his lips, almost as if it was his first time saying it, that it was a new word in a langue he was still trying to learn. Of course, Zuko had been forgiven countless times by his uncle and friends, but to forgive Ozai? “It never occurred to me. With all the damage he’s done…after everything he’s done…I mean it’s not even like he’s _actively_ _trying_ to change for the better, you know? It’s the disease. _That’s_ what’s making him change…He doesn’t deserve forgiveness.”

Sokka finished his first strip of jerky before popping in another stick. “I mean, you have a point there.”

Zuko turned his head. He wasn’t expecting Sokka to agree with him. “You think I’m _right_?”

Sokka nodded. “Yeah, he doesn’t deserve it.” He took another bite of his second piece of jerky. “Neither does the Southern Raider sack of shit that killed my mother.”

Zuko crossed his arms. “They’re not the same thing, Sokka.”

His friend acknowledged his point. “You’re right,” Sokka started. “But we were both hurt by a monster man jerkweed that took one of the most important things in our lives away from us.”

Zuko allowed the comment, keeping his arms crossed.

Sokka took this as a sign to continue. “Personally, I still haven’t forgiven the guy. I probably never will, and there’s nothing wrong with that as far as I’m concerned.” He had one more piece of jerky to finish off before going for his third. “But Katara has forgiven him.”

Zuko’s eyes tripled in size, his arms unraveling from each other, hands falling onto the table in front of him. “She _what_?”

Sokka nodded, swallowing the last piece. “Yup,” he picked up the third stick. “Are you sure you don’t want at least _one_ piece of jerky?”

Zuko shook his head, too focused on the report of Katara’s actions. “I’m sure.”

“Suit yourself,” Sokka tore at the jerky with his fingers and popped a bite-sized chunk into his mouth.

“I can’t believe she forgave him…I mean she tried to set aside her hate, but _forgive_ him? That’s just—”

“He’s dead now,” Sokka stated matter-of-factually.

Zuko raised his eyebrows. “Really?” Zuko thought back to the old man he and Katara fought that stormy day. The monster had turned into a pathetic old man, begging for mercy. He remembered Katara’s face when she stared the opportunity to get revenge straight in the eye before letting the man go free.

“Yep,” Sokka mumbled with more jerky rolling around behind his teeth. “He died a year after you guys ambushed him.”

“So…why did she—?” Confusion had become another “normal” for Zuko. He didn’t like it. “When did she forgive him?”

Sokka shrugged. “She just said it was something she had to do. She told me this forgiveness thing happened right after Aang defeated your dad.”

So many years ago. It felt like ages.

“How?”

Sokka took another bite. “I dunno,” he swallowed. “To be honest, I still don’t understand it. I mean she didn’t have to. After what that man did to our family…” Sokka grimaced before relaxing his face. “But despite what I think, I guess it’s something that she thought she had to do.”

This didn’t make sense either. She had basically vowed to never forgive him. What changed her mind?

“Do you think if I asked Katara to come here, she’d talk with me about it?”

“Why? Aren’t my words filled with just as much—if not _more_ —wisdom as hers?” Sokka sounded fake-offended, pressing a hand above his heart.

“I think talking to her could help me figure out what Uncle meant,” Zuko thought aloud. “Aren’t you the one who just said I don’t have to come to the answer on my own?”

Sokka squinted his eyes as he finished his third stick of jerky. “I see, using my own words against me, heh?” He thrusted his finger in the hair for emphasis. Then he settled down. A small burp erupted from Sokka’s stomach. “You know she’d come, but you could also just wait for her to arrive.” Sokka stared at the jerky on the shelf, probably debating whether he should go for a fourth.

Zuko could feel his cheeks begin to flush. “She’s coming?”

That snapped Sokka out of his trance. “Oh, right, well, Katara is planning on coming to visit here in the next few days. A healer reached out to her for training.”

_Jo,_ Zuko thought. _It’s gotta be Jo…_

“Katara is one of best Master Waterbenders in history. Along with her kickass fighting, she still heals better than anyone I know.” Sokka smiled. “She’ll be happy to see you.”

Zuko smiled back. “Thank you, Sokka, I really appreciate it.” He looked out the window. “I think I should start heading back. I have to finish reading some documents before the meeting tomorrow morning.”

Sokka provided a long, drawn out sigh. “Spirits, it must be annoying having _all_ those meetings.”

Zuko snorted. “You have to be there too, jerk.”

The look on Sokka’s face made Zuko laugh. Something in his eyes tipped Zuko off that Sokka forgot about the event.

“Well…fine!” Sokka glanced at a stack of scrolls in the corner of the room. “I guess I better review the material I’m presenting then.”

“Mmmhm,” Zuko mused with a smirk. “I’ll see you later, Sokka. Thank you for talking with me.”

Sokka walked Zuko out. “Hey, it’s what I do.”

............................................

“Oh, Zuko,” Katara placed a hand gingerly on the side of Zuko’s face. He avoided eye contact with her. Despite their long history, there had always been something about her that made him wonder what would have happened if he spoke up sooner. What would have happened if he leaned into the curious emotions and heart-fluttering moments when they were together? Mai realized being friends was the best option for her and Zuko a year after Zuko took the throne. He had been so lonely. But Katara was still with Aang, and she was happy. He wasn’t going to get in the way of that.

Zuko reached for Katara’s tender hand, eyes still avoiding her face. “It is what it is,” he slid his fingers off hers.

Katara’s hand remained stationed on his scarred cheek. “I…I don’t know what to say right now.” She pulled her hand away.

Zuko peeked at her through his dark lashes. He appreciated her honesty. She was the first person to tell him to his face that she didn’t know what to say. All the others tried to come up with something on the spot, or they let an agonizing, lingering period of silence dwell between them. Katara was the first to admit that maybe there isn’t something to say. And he appreciated that.

“You don’t have to say anything, Katara, really.” Zuko pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes again. “It’s just…It’s a lot.”

Katara responded with a sad nod. “It _is_ a lot, but you do know you don’t have to do it alone, don’t you?”

Zuko released his nose in a sigh and opened his eyes. “Yeah, I know. Sokka reminded me of that the other day.” He looked onto Katara. She was always so caring. “He also mentioned that you came here to train a local healer?”

Katara smiled sweetly. “I am. I actually think it might be—”

“Is it Jo?” Zuko finished for her.

Katara nodded. “Yeah, she didn’t give me all the details about what she needed guidance with, but now after talking with you…”

Silence clung to the air around them.

Zuko swallowed before breaking the silence.

“Now you have a better picture on what you’re getting yourself into.” Zuko scratched the back of his neck. “Jo said there’s not a lot about The Fade out there. I mean there’s no cure…or something along those lines…Is that right?”

Katara’s forehead crinkled before relaxing into a sad expression. “Not that I’m aware of…so yes, that’s right.” Her eyes drifted to her hands, folded neatly in her lap as if she were holding a baby turtleduck.

People walked by them. Occasionally someone would say hi to Zuko. He would respond with the best smile he could before letting his lips sink back to their usual linear state. Katara and Zuko stayed seated on the rim of the Fire Nation fountain. It used to be a monument of Ozai breathing fire. Once Zuko took the Fire Lord title, he had the monument taken down. Something else should be put in the center of the capitol, something that would remind the people that they were not Ozai’s, that they were not Zuko’s, but rather that they were Fire Nation. Zuko wanted the people to feel pride in where they came from. Ozai made that difficult when he was in power…brainwashing everyone into thinking they were superior to the other nations, that they were the superior element…Never again.

Zuko let his thoughts linger their way back to the beautiful woman in front of him. Her hands now moved up and down over the water from the fountain. She pulled a small stream up and down gracefully with her talented fingers. This made Zuko smile.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed with them sitting in the quiet. Zuko cleared his throat. “So,” he started, his eyes still on her hands. “There was something specific I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh?” Katara let the stream down carefully, giving Zuko her undivided attention. “What did you want to talk about, Zuko?”

Zuko brought his eyes up to hers. Suddenly he felt like maybe he shouldn’t ask…It was a personal question, but then again, they were close now. He shouldn’t feel bad asking. She just said that he doesn’t have to do this alone, that they are there for him. Sokka said that she could help, so of course she would. Why wouldn’t she?

_…Well come on, idiot, ask!_ Zuko’s mind nudged. “Ahh,” he mumbled. “It’s, um, well I guess it’s kind of a personal question…”

Katara cocked an eyebrow. “Okay, what kind of personal question?”

_It’s not like you’re asking her to marry you,_ his mind reasoned. “And Sokka said you’d be okay with me asking, so…”

Her eyes seemed to laugh at him just a bit. It was enough to make him look away and down into the water of the fountain.

“It’s okay,” Katara assured. “What do you want to ask me?”

His eyes didn’t leave the water when he said, “Sokka told me you forgave the man that killed your mother.”

Silence was his response. Three seconds of silence before he heard her take a deep breath.

“Oh, um, yeah…I have…” She cleared her throat.

Zuko looked up at Katara, who now had her arms wrapped around her stomach. “Can I ask you why you forgave him? Or, or _how_ you forgave him?”

Katara looked at him with empathetic eyes.

“I mean he killed your mother, Katara. You told Aang you would _never_ forgive him…I just—I don’t understand how or why you did it…”

Katara unraveled her arms and swung her legs over each other so that her body faced Zuko. She sat crisscross on the rim of the fountain. “Before I tell you, can you tell me why you want to know?”

Zuko couldn’t say no to her. Ever since their time in the cave at Ba Sing Se, he never wanted to mislead her again, he never wanted to hurt her again. He wanted to be as honest as he could with her. “I’ve told you everything that’s been going on with my father…but I haven’t talked about what _I_ have been going through, like, inside myself.” Zuko proceeded to talk about how he felt angry and sad and scared and confused. He talked about how feeling scared is what confused him the most, and that when he asked his uncle for guidance, his uncle responded with this whole thing about forgiveness. Zuko told her how forgiveness wasn’t something he had on the table. The wounds from his past were still healing. He didn’t think he could heal and forgive at the same time. Not to mention that his father didn’t deserve it. But there must have been a reason why Uncle Iroh asked him about forgiveness, so now he needs to figure out why, why is forgiveness so important?

By the time he finished talking about his feelings, Katara had propped her head up on her hands, allowing her chin to rest on her knuckles with her elbows resting on her kneecaps. “Iroh is right,” she finally said. “It does sound like you’re going through some sort of war inside yourself.”

Zuko flicked the water in the fountain with his right hand. “Yeah, I know.” He took out his hand and wiped it on the side of his robe. “I don’t know why he thinks forgiveness is so important. I don’t understand why he would suggest it unless it means something important, so it has to be important.”

Katara smiled, taking her chin off her hands. She let her arms land in her lap. “Well, how about I tell you why and how I forgave Yon Rha.”

Zuko nodded with gratitude. “Thank you, I think that would help.”

Katara readjusted herself. “I guess I’ll start by saying that I actually didn’t plan on it happening,” she began. “Like you said earlier, I told Aang I could never forgive him. What Yon Rha did was unforgivable. And that’s still true. He didn’t deserve forgiveness. Sokka will tell you that.” Katara sighed. “But it had been weighing on me since the day we saw him. I surprised myself when I didn’t kill him. I mean you saw what I could do…”

“Yeah,” Zuko replayed her bloodbending in his head, “I remember.”

Katara avoided eye contact. “I could have done it. Sometimes I think I _should_ have done it…But it just didn’t feel right.” She took a deep breath. “He was so…so…I don’t know…Yon Rha had become nothing more than a weak, pathetic excuse for a man…I didn’t think it was right to just kill him. I don’t think I actually had it in me to kill in the name of revenge.”

Zuko respected that. “That part makes sense,” he reasoned. “So why did you forgive him? You just said so yourself, he didn’t deserve it.”

Katara sighed again. “After Aang defeated your father and you took the throne, I started seeing things a little differently.” She gracefully wrapped her long hair around one of her shoulders, letting it cascade down her chest. “I thought about what my mother would want me to do…”

_I thought about what my mother would want me to do…_ The sentence echoed in Zuko’s brain.

“And I think she wouldn’t want to me hate him.” Katara confessed. “One night I just couldn’t fall asleep. I kept thinking about him and what he looked like and what he said…He was following orders. He was doing his job…” A flash of anger flickered in her eyes for a moment before calming herself down. “That doesn’t excuse what he did. He still killed my mother, but he was under orders to kill the waterbenders of my village. My mom sacrificed herself to save me…He thought he completed his order, but he didn’t.” Katara gave a hard swallow. “It wasn’t easy for me…but again, I thought about what my mother would want.”

_I thought about what my mother would want me to do…_

“She wouldn’t want Sokka and me running around with hatred in our hearts…Forgiveness helped me let go of that hatred.”

Zuko blinked. “But he _didn’t_ deserve it!” he spat without thinking.

Katara’s forehead crinkled again. “No, he didn’t…But it gave me a sense of peace.” She pressed a hand to her chest. “I am still angry and hurt and sad, but I forgave him. That hatred and desire to get revenge on him was eating me alive…I don’t think I even told Sokka how many times I thought about the different ways I could have killed Yon Rha…” Zuko watched as she pressed her hand harder into her chest. “So I guess it boils down to what I said in the beginning…I thought about what my mother would want me to do, and I truly believe she would want me to forgive him, to look at him for what he was, a scared man with the façade of a fearless warrior doing the dirty work of a cavern king that used power to bully others to his will. Yon Rha was a pawn in a game of war. It wasn’t right. None of it was right.” She took a deep breath, taking her hand off her chest. “So, I forgave him. I forgave the pathetic old man.”

_Hate…She talked about hate…_ The thought persisted in Zuko’s mind.

Katara let Zuko meditate on everything she told him. “I don’t know if that helps, but—”

“No, no, it does,” Zuko insisted. “You gave me some things to think about.”

Katara gave a sad yet comforting smile. “I’m happy I could help.” She looked over at Sokka’s house. “Do you want to stay for dinner?” Katara cocked her head to side, gesturing that he eats with them.

Zuko thought about it for a moment before shaking his head. “I appreciate the offer, but I can’t.” He stood up from the fountain and helped Katara to her feet. “I have to talk to Uncle. There are some things I want to talk to him about.”

Katara responded with an understanding nod. “I think it’s good having him around.”

Zuko gave a weak chuckle. “Yeah, he has his moments.”

Katara took Zuko’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’m meeting with Jo tomorrow morning. Maybe I’ll bump into you later?”

_I thought about what my mother would want me to do…_

“Yeah,” Zuko pushed his thoughts aside. “That would be nice.”

The two friends parted. Zuko had some questions for Uncle Iroh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Thank you for reading Chapter 3! I hope you are enjoying the fic so far!! As always, please let me know your thoughts :) Thanks again :D
> 
> 12/30/2020 UPDATE: Chapter 4 is now up! :D


	4. A Broken Man in A Broken Cycle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko stifled a scoff and the urge to roll his eyes. “It’s hard for me to imagine him as a scared child…” Zuko thought back to when the Gaang was hiding at Ember Island. Aang found a picture of his father as a baby. So innocent. Happy. Laughing. Cute.  
> Zuko scrunched his brow and looked at his uncle. “What happened to him? What made him turn into what he was?” 
> 
> (Zuko gets a glimpse of the dark secrets of Ozai's past.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some elements will be pulled from the continued ATLA comics for the duration of this work (I haven’t read the whole comic series in its entirety yet, so if you’ve read all of it, don’t expect what I’m writing to be super accurate *sweating emoji face*)

It didn’t take Zuko long to find his uncle. He knew Iroh would be in the library with one of the guards or maids. Today Iroh was with a guard named Li, who Iroh knew since before Zuko was born. “Ah, you are getting better, Li,” Iroh put down his final piece for Pai Sho. “But you still have some way to go.”

The guard grumbled something under his breath before standing up to leave. “One of these days, Iroh,” Li wagged an agitated finger in Iroh’s face, “one of these days I will _beat_ you at this _ridiculous_ game!”

Iroh gave a hearty laugh. “I look forward to it, but in the meantime,” Zuko’s uncle grabbed a steaming cup of tea that was next to the game board, “I will drink this delicious tea.”

A crooked grin formed on Zuko’s face as he approached his uncle. “You don’t go easy on them, do you, Uncle?”

Iroh looked up from his cup. “Nephew!” He gestured to the now empty seat in front of him. “Come, sit! I just made some hot, Jasmine tea.”

Zuko sat down across from his uncle. “I’m not thirsty but thank you.” He leaned his back against the chair, folding his hands in front of him. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

His uncle took a sip of his tea. “What would you like to talk about?”

Zuko sighed. “I wanted to talk about something Katara told me.”

Iroh arched an eyebrow. “Hm, you’ve been talking to Katara. She’s a sweet girl.”

The Fire Lord’s breath hitched slightly. “Yes, a sweet girl that is _still_ in love with the Avatar.”

Iroh gave a small smile and took another sip.

“Anyway,” Zuko continued after clearing his throat, “She told me she forgave the man that killed her mother…and it-it got me thinking about Father.”

Iroh put down his tea and stroked his beard. Zuko could tell he was thinking of something, but he wasn’t sure what. “I see,” Iroh replied. “Why did it make you think of my brother?”

Zuko sighed. “Well, she said that part of the reason why she forgave him was because she thought about what her mother would want her to do…and how her mom wouldn’t want her to have hate in her heart…” He watched his uncle stroke his beard another time, waiting for Zuko to continue. “And…well…I just-I-I mean, um…” Zuko unfolded his arms to rub his temples. “I think that maybe…maybe there are other reasons why I’m feeling what I’m feeling.”

“Hmm,” Iroh stroked his beard again. “I wonder what those reasons are.”

The Fire Lord took a deep breath. “On some level…On some level I think I might…I might…ugh.” Zuko hung his head, ashamed for what he was about to confess. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his face still to the floor. “I think on some level I might hate him…for what he’s done.”

Zuko said nothing, letting his statement hang in the air. He refused to look up, he couldn’t make eye contact with his uncle. The silence lasted for an agonizing thirty seconds before Zuko broke it. “Or-Or maybe it’s not hate? I mean I still care for him, Uncle.” He let go of his nose. “But there is _something_ there…I just—The things he put me through…The things he put Mother through…I can’t just forget and I can’t…I don’t know.”

A second later Zuko felt his uncle’s heavy, reassuring hand land on his shoulder. Zuko took his eyes off the floor to meet Iroh’s comforting face. “Hate can be a toxic thing, Nephew.”

Zuko nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I know…” his voice trailed off before he gathered the courage to speak up again. “It’s just…I think over the three years of being banished, I fought for his love for so long and-and during those years I did so many horrible things to so many people…”

Traumatized faces of innocent bystanders flashed at the back of his head with each blink he took.

Children, _blink_.

Mothers, _blink_.

Fathers, _blink_ …

Needless flames of fire spraying the air to get his honor back, _blink_ …

The hateful glares, _blink_ …

The screams, _blink_ …

Zuko grimaced and coughed, shaking the haunting visions from his mind. “He sent me on a mission that everyone thought was impossible. He _knew_ I wouldn’t find the Avatar. He _knew_ it was basically a death sentence, but he did it anyway. To his own son. For what? Speaking out of turn?” The Fire Lord took an unsteady breath. “Those years…I could have learned how to take my father’s place, learned to be a strong leader, but instead I was sent on a wild chase around the world. I could have been loved by a father, instead I was detested, seen as a dishonorable outcast. I could have…ugh.” Zuko hung his head again, pressing his eyes into the heels of his hands. “A lot of things could have happened if he hadn’t been so…so…”

Iroh rubbed his back in a soothing motion. “You have been clinging onto the other possibilities that could have happened rather than confronting what has actually happened for quite some time, Zuko.”

Zuko didn’t respond to the statement. He knew it was true. His uncle wasn’t wrong there. For years, he tried to earn his father’s love, he tried to get back the respect and honor his father so viciously stripped away from him. For years, Zuko wondered what he could do to make it up to Ozai. There were nights when Zuko thought about what would have happened if he had never found the Avatar. Would his father have taken pity on him? Told Zuko he thought the banished prince had learned his lesson? Would Ozai have opened his arms and welcomed his son back home? What would have happened if Aang never came out of the iceberg? What would Zuko have done then? Would Ozai have really left Zuko wandering around the world aimlessly forever with only Iroh by his side? It wouldn’t have surprised him now. But back then he was still so innocent, damaged but innocent despite what his external reactions showed, blinded by the false promise of a father’s unattainable love.

Zuko pressed his heels harder into his eyes, his head starting to pound realizing just how long he had thought about the “what if’s” of his life. He could have stayed with Mai. They could have been happy, never knowing anything different than each other and the joy that was so pure and innocent way back when. He would have never had to worry about letting his heart question the idea of caring for a Water Tribe peasant girl. He could have sat at the right hand of his father, outshining Azula for once. He could have been his father’s favorite. Or who knows! Maybe he and Azula would have become friends, both showing their father they deserved his love. Or Zuko could have provided his father a fresh insight into a dark world where the Fire Nation would light up the lands in a way no other Fire Lord had before. Sozin’s Comet would have powered them full force where the world would be in the palm of his father’s hand all thanks to him, all thanks to Zuko. Crowds would have bowed to him. Portraits of his unbranded face would have painted the walls of the palace, overwhelming proof that he deserved to be there…

“He took so much away from me, Uncle.” Zuko’s hands remained pressed to his eyes.

Iroh took his hand off of Zuko’s back and grabbed his tea. “Yes, he did. My brother made many mistakes.”

Zuko scoffed in a snort. “Mistakes,” he lifted his head from his hands. “That’s too kind of a word for what he’s done.” Anger bubbled up in his tone.

His uncle took a sip from his tea, letting Zuko’s statement linger in the space between them.

A sign rolled out of him as he slouched in his chair, his neck resting on the back of the seat. “Is what I’m feeling hate? Is this hate? Maybe…Maybe it’s resentment?” Zuko closed his eyes with a scowl. “You said there are no wrong feelings, but hate is toxic if it consumes you.” Zuko curled his fingers on the armrest of the chair. “But then you look at him today…He’s pathetic!” His nails dug into the wood of the seat, his teeth grinding against each other. “All of those could have been’s…All of those _should_ have been’s…Gone.” He could feel a groan forming in the back of his throat. “He looks so broken, he sounds _so_ broken, Uncle.” The groan was climbing up his tongue while the expression of pity formed on his face. “If this is hate, then how can I hate him now? How can I hate _that_ man?” Zuko pointed in the direction of the dungeons.

_I thought about what my mother would want me to do…_

_I thought about what my mother would want me to do…_

_I thought about—_

“Ugh!” Zuko craned his neck up, opening his eyes to see his uncle staring at him with a sad smile. “Do you think that maybe if I talk to Mother, I could get more answers? I-I mean she had to put up with so much from him, too. She never told me everything, but I know it must have been hell…Or do you hate him, Uncle? No, of course you don’t. You’re better than that, and—”

“I am no better than anyone, Zuko.” Iroh stated sternly. “But you are right, I do not hate my brother.”

“But why not? You have every reason to after he took your rightful place on the throne!”

“He did take my throne, yes.” Iroh sighed heavily. “But he was a troubled soul, Nephew. This does not excuse his behavior by any means, but I still see the little brother I had to protect from the monsters under his bed. No matter how many horrible things he has done, I cannot hate him.”

Zuko stifled a scoff and the urge to roll his eyes. “It’s hard for me to imagine him as a scared child…” Zuko thought back to when the Gaang was hiding at Ember Island. Aang found a picture of his father as a baby. So innocent. Happy. Laughing. Cute.

Zuko scrunched his brow and looked at his uncle. “What happened to him? What made him turn into what he was?”

Zuko could tell Iroh was thinking whether or not to tell Zuko about their past. It must have been dark otherwise why would his uncle hold back? He knew that Grandfather Azulon had told Ozai that he had to murder his first-born son for even suggesting that Ozai take the throne after Iroh had lost _his_ son…

Was Azulon just as horrible as Ozai was as a father? Was he worse?

Iroh gave another heavy sigh. “I can give you my thoughts, but I do not know if your father would agree.”

Zuko shook his head. “I don’t care. I want to know.” He leaned back in his chair again, arms crossed, waiting for his uncle to begin.

“Very well,” Iroh leaned forward, propping his elbows on the tops of his knees. “Believe it or not, your father was not a very good firebender growing up.”

Zuko widened his eyes with subtle surprise, arching an eyebrow. “Really?”

Iroh nodded. “Yes, and our father would not tolerate it. There were times I would take my brother aside and try to teach him how to master certain skills, or how to master the basic forms when my father was not looking. Ozai was so eager to learn.” A smile tugged at the edges of Iroh’s lips. “He would practice in the courtyard after practices. He so desperately wanted to make our father proud of him.”

Zuko’s heart pounded a little harder, echoing beats throughout his chest. _He was afraid of what Grandfather thought of him? He…he wanted to—?_

“My father was a harsh man. He had great ideas for my future. He was proud to have a son who had mastered the basic skills of firebending at such a young age, he was proud of me…” A dark, sad look shadowed Iroh’s face. “I tried to defend Ozai when my father would berate him in front of me. I would get punished for this when our mother had her head turned.”

Zuko grimaced. “What…What would he do?”

Iroh bit his lip before responding. “He did not discipline me the way he did to my brother.”

Zuko frowned. “What did Grandfather do to you and Father, Uncle?”

Iroh sighed. “I don’t think you want to know, Zuko.”

Zuko took a hard swallow before shaking his head. “No, I do. Was it worse than when he did _this_?” The Fire Lord pointed to his scar.

Iroh sighed with a grim expression. “Alright…He would beat us, more so Ozai than me.”

Zuko swallowed again, waiting for Iroh to continue.

“My father would make Ozai fight him. There were times when he would make the staff watch their ‘matches’ where Ozai could only use firebending while my father would not. It was his way of trying to get my brother to master his bending.” Iroh took his arms off his legs. “If Ozai could not break my father’s stance with his bending, my father would hit or kick him until he felt Ozai had learned his lesson.”

 _Spirits…_ Zuko’s eyes dropped to the floor. He thought back to how Ozai would discipline him and Azula growing up. Azula rarely received punishments. If anything, she was only required to attend more bending instructions, leading her to more praise from her father. But Zuko. _His_ father would threaten to hurt him, severely, but Ursa would never allow it. In retrospect, however, Zuko could see how even the threat of being harmed or being told he was never good enough did a different type of damage to him. Especially after his mother left…

Zuko brought his eyes back to his uncle. “Did…Did Father ever defeat Grandfather?”

Iroh produced another sigh. “He did once, catching my father’s robe on fire. He was fifteen. That was the proudest my father had ever been of Ozai…Ozai held some of my father’s respect until…well…”

“Until he what, Uncle?” Zuko asked.

“You don’t need to know that detail, Zuko. It’s not important to the story. You won’t—”

The Fire Lord shook his head. “I can handle it! Tell me!”

Iroh yielded another sigh, this was heavier than the others. “He was disappointed in your father when you did not firebend until later than the other children…specifically your sister…He blamed your father…”

Zuko’s stomach dropped.

His mouth ran dry.

He felt sick.

His breath shook and his heart leaped into his throat, pounding and thumping.

A conversation of a tainted family dinner flashed before Zuko’s eyes. He was only a child.

 _Despite being a year younger, how many more forms has she mastered than you?_ Ozai had rasped.

 _Fourteen…_ Zuko whispered, staring at the table in front of him, terrified, too afraid to meet his father’s furious gaze.

_When you were born, we weren’t sure if you were a bender at all…How embarrassing for a prince of the Fire Nation to have a NONBENDER as his firstborn!...Azula was born LUCKY. You were lucky to be BORN!_

…And just like that, the memory faded.

“Oh…” Zuko managed, turning his head to the floor with shame. “I didn’t realize that I…that it was my fau—”

“No!” Iroh’s hand shot out and landed on Zuko’s kneecap before he could finish. “You did _nothing_ wrong, Nephew. You did _nothing_ wrong.”

Zuko remained silent, soaking in the information his uncle disclosed. “I just…I never thought that-that it was that bad.” His confession came as a cracked whisper.

Iroh patted Zuko’s knee before leaning back in his chair again and poured himself another cup of tea. “It affected us in different ways…My brother got stuck in a vicious cycle. He did not have the tools to break it, although I tried to help.” Iroh took a sip from his tea. “Once Ozai had the chance for power, he took it. It was the only thing he could have as a means to put him above our father, to take back the respect he did not receive growing up.”

Zuko ran both his hands through his hair, gripping at the roots. _Then why…Why didn’t he—?_

“Why did Father never tell us this?” Zuko interrupted his thought. “Why didn’t _you_ tell me this when I was in exile?”

Iroh put his tea back on the table. “It was not my story to tell, Zuko. And your father was ashamed of how he was treated. He did not want people to know of his struggles. He wanted to be the only one who knew. He saw his past as a path that made him stronger than anyone else. His only chance to achieve a sense of pride was when Azula was born.”

_He saw his past as a path that made him stronger than anyone else._

_I thought about what my mother would want me to do…_

_I love you._

_I’m proud of you, Zuko._

_Have you forgiven him?_

_He saw his past as a path that made him stronger than anyone else._

Zuko let go of his hair, some strands leaving with his fingers. “I…I don’t know how to feel…” He said, just below a murmur.

“What did you say, Zuko?” Iroh asked.

Zuko sighed with a grunt. “I’m more confused than I was before!” His statement came out more aggressive than he had meant it to. He could see the concern expressed in his uncle’s eyes. “This is all so much…I didn’t know that he was treated like that…” Zuko clenched his fists. “But if he knew what it was like to feel detested by a father, why did he do it to me?” He pointed at his chest hard enough for it to hurt, probably giving himself a tiny fingertip-shaped welt.

Iroh blinked. “There are times when a child will grow up to be like their parents, Nephew. When your father did not get the help he needed, he—”

Zuko shook his head. “That’s no excuse for what he did!” His anger was showing again, amplifying with each realization he made. “He _knew_ how much it hurt! He _knew_ the toll it takes!”

His uncle nodded. “On some level I am sure he did, but when someone endures this type of trauma, it does not always show itself in pleasant ways.”

The Fire Lord didn’t know what to do. He wanted to scream and cry and breathe fire, but what good would that do him? How is he supposed to process what his father had gone through? Does it explain why he did what he did? Sure. Zuko will allow that, for now, at least until he could think straight.

Angry flames burned between the skin and bone of the knuckles in his hands. “I don’t care. I don’t!”

_He saw his past as a path that made him stronger than anyone else._

“Was he trying to…to…?” His voice cracked. Why couldn’t he hold himself together? Was it really this hard for him? Spirits he hated this. “I need to be alone.” Zuko got to his feet and pushed the chair away from him with the back of his legs.

“What about dinner?” Iroh asked, standing up.

Zuko turned his back to his uncle as he stormed to his chambers. “I’m not hungry.” He could feel Iroh’s sad stare linger on his back, but Zuko didn’t want to think about it. He needed time to think.

………………….

_Please, Father. I only had the Fire Nation’s best interest at heart. I’m sorry I spoke out of turn!_

_You will fight for your honor._

_I meant you no disrespect! I-I am your loyal son._

_Rise and FIGHT, Prince Zuko!_

_I WON’T fight you!_

_You WILL learn respect, and SUFFERING will be your teacher!_

Fire.

Pain.

Thick, heavy flames of disappointment branded the poor boy. A wave of scorching heat crashed over him, smothering the child in shame.

“NO!” Zuko panted, throwing himself up into a sitting position, his hand reflexively reaching for his scar. His heart raced and rattled against his ribcage. Sweat streaked down his face, dripping off the bangs that were now plastered to his forehead. He felt ice and fire spike every nerve in his body as the realization it was only a nightmare came into view.

“Ugh…” He threw himself back against the pillows beneath him, still heaving, trying to get his breathing under control. A silent sob managed to push itself from in between his lips. One tear wiggled its way from the corner of Zuko’s eye. It traced his unblemished cheek and seeped through the material of his pillow. “It was only a dream. It-It was only a dream.” Zuko placed a hand over his slicked chest. “Just a bad dream…”

Zuko flipped over onto his stomach, his scar pressed against the pillow. He tried going back to sleep, but it was pointless. Images of what his father must have gone through bubbled up to the surface of his brain:

Ozai thrown onto his back.

Ozai getting kicked in the stomach.

Ribs breaking.

Lips bleeding.

Fire roaring…

Zuko didn’t want to think about it, but that didn’t stop the thoughts from coming. He eventually gave up on the idea of sleep. Wrapping his nightrobe around himself, he walked down the halls of the palace. Everyone was still sound asleep. He passed a guard every now and then, but other than that everyone was dreaming their sweet dreams, leaving Zuko to roam without question.

He walked until he came across the hall that had the history of Fire Lords draped across the wall. His footsteps stopped in front of Fire Lord Azulon. The picture’s eyes stared forward. Zuko squinted at his grandfather’s face. “Why did you do it? Why did you…Why did you _hurt_ them? What _good_ did you think that would accomplish?” Zuko sighed and looked both ways of the hallway before continuing his one-sided conversation. He didn’t need anyone seeing him like this. “If you hadn’t been so…so… _cruel_ to them, so cruel to my father, maybe he would have been a good Fire Lord, maybe he would have been a good father!”

Zuko stared into the lifeless eyes of the painting. “You don’t understand, Grandfather…Father is dying…And-and he is saying things I don’t think he actually means…Or maybe he does mean?...Maybe he was just acting the way he did when I was a child because that’s what _you_ did to him?…You made him fight for your love. Do you know that’s what he did to me? Don’t you remember? I tried to show you my skills and Father was embarrassed, humiliated by me…Ashamed of me…” Zuko whispered. He swallowed, eyes not leaving Azulon. “At the time, I thought it was just his hatred of me, and maybe it was. Not _all_ of it was you…But after what Uncle has told me, I-I think I see why. He was trying to impress you…He wasn’t good enough because _I_ wasn’t good enough, right? That was part of it, wasn’t it?” A growl started to claw its way up from the pit of Zuko’s stomach to the back of his tongue. “Uncle said that it put Father into a cycle…Uncle broke it. He stopped himself from becoming like you. He treated Lu Ten better than Father ever did to me, maybe even better than he did to Azula.” Then the growl erupted. “But _my_ father?” he pointed in the direction of the dungeons. “My father was _stuck_ , stuck in a _twisted_ cycle that _you_ created!” Fire licked the skin inside Zuko’s palms. “You… _You_ …” The temptation to burn the painting was strong. He wanted to remove the images that influenced his father’s behavior from his palace…But instead Zuko took a deep breath before letting it out slowly, the fire simmering down. “You’re not worth it.” The Fire Lord bowed to his grandfather’s picture out of practiced respect before walking his way to the garden.

Zuko plopped down on the ledge of the fountain. It bubbled, water trickling soothing sounds. Zuko leaned down on his side as his eyes drooped shut, letting the water and the echo of a breeze brush his ears. A yawn rolled out of him as he curled his arm under his head, making it his pillow. Zuko’s robe kept him warm as he drifted off into another dream.

The dream was a trip at Ember Island. He felt his mother giving him a great, warm hug. Embracing him. Showering him with love. He felt his father enveloping him, Azula, and his mother all into an even bigger hug. They were at the beach, playing in the water. His father smiled a genuine, happy smile when Zuko shot a small blast of fire from his knuckles out into the sea. _There you go, Zuko._ His father had praised. _You’re getting the hang of it._ Moments like that did not happen often. If Zuko had known that growing up, he would have appreciated them more.

A smile tugged at Zuko’s sleeping lips.

Then the dream shifted, their bodies turning into hazy shapes.

He was sitting crisscross next to his uncle, although Iroh was much younger, roughly sixteen years of age.

 _Uncle?_ Zuko asked, but he received no response. He looked around him to find staff members of the palace sitting beside him. _What is happening, Uncle?_ Zuko tapped his uncle on his shoulder, but again, he received no response.

 _Prince Ozai,_ a dark voice boomed.

 _Father?_ Zuko whispered, turning his attention to the stage in front of him.

His father and grandfather were standing on either side of the throne room.

Ozai made an audible swallow. He looked so young, younger than Iroh. Ozai’s hair was short. There was a crusted cut on his upper lip. Zuko could see his father shivering. Zuko had never seen Ozai shiver before. He couldn’t remember ever seeing his father express any form of fear.

 _I-I am sorry, Father. I didn’t mean to undermine my instructor._ Ozai’s voice faltered. _I know he is one of the greatest in our nation…B-But Iroh—_

 _I already dealt with your brother!_ Azulon roared.

Zuko turned to his uncle. Iroh tugged at the hem of his tunic’s sleeve, hiding a large, black bruise.

 _It shouldn’t be your brother’s responsibility to teach you how to be a competent firebender! You think Iroh is a better teacher than one of the COUNTLESS men I have ordered to train you, hm? Well, then I want to see JUST what you have learned._ His grandfather cracked his neck, sending a cruel shiver to roll down Zuko’s spine. _Now,_ Azulon took a fighting stance. _BEGIN!_

Zuko’s heartrate increased tenfold as he watched his father desperately try to keep his composure. It was strange. He didn’t see the big man scarring him. Zuko saw a small boy, a small boy who couldn’t see what was wrong with him. A small boy who would do anything, _anything_ to get his father’s approval. Zuko reached for his scar while he watched the events unfold in front of him.

Azulon ran towards Ozai, throwing kicks in the air, dodging every one of Ozai’s shots. _You have to do better than that if you want to wear the title of PRINCE with pride, BOY!_ Zuko’s grandfather didn’t show mercy. Kick after kick, empty blow after empty blow zoomed past Ozai’s face.

Ozai was able to maneuver himself away from Azulon for a few minutes, but then he slipped, crashing on his side. _Father, please!_ Ozai shielded his face with his arm. _I-I’m sorry!_

 _No, you’re not!_ Azulon swung his foot back, _Not yet!_

Zuko turned his head away to see two of the staff members holding Iroh back, Iroh’s fists clenched into tight, white-knuckled grips.

_No, Prince Iroh,_ one of the staff members whispered. _You must refrain. You will be no help to your brother if—_

 _GGRAAHHH!_ Ozai whimpered loudly.

The scene shifted to where Zuko now stood right beside his father. He looked so sad, so pathetic, so, so meek. A harsh, angry welt began to form on Ozai’s ribs.

_You WILL take your punishment like a MAN!_ Azulon grunted with another thrust of his foot into Ozai’s stomach.

_No, stop!_ Zuko shouted. He grabbed onto Azulon’s arm, but to no avail. His grandfather’s cruelty only continued to persist. The small boy below him sobbed, curling himself into a tight ball. Zuko couldn’t take it anymore. _Grandfather, PLEASE!_ Right as Azulon cranked his leg back for another blow, Zuko threw himself in front of his father. _ENOUGH!_

Then Zuko’s body felt cold, he couldn’t breathe.

His eyes flung open, water coating the insides of his lungs.

“Zuko!” A gentle voice called.

Zuko pushed himself out of the fountain, coughing up water. Zuko rubbed the water out of his eyes, blinking to get a better view of the person in front of him. “M-Mother-r-r?” he coughed.

Ursa wrapped her arms around him, pulling him out from the fountain. “What were you doing?”

Zuko leaned into his mother’s hug. “I-I couldn’t sleep and-and I guess I must have—”

“Ah, so _here_ you are, Nephew.”

“Uncle?” Zuko pulled away from his mother so he could look at his family. “Why are you guys here?”

“Your uncle told me you wanted to talk.” Ursa smiled. “How about you wash up and then we talk over breakfast?”

Zuko nodded, wrapping his arms around himself. “I would like that very much.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the chapter! More to come in January :) Please let me know if you've enjoyed the fic and/or the chapter so far. As I have mentioned before, I am always up for suggestions :D


	5. A Mother's Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ursa's stiffness softened as she turned to face Zuko. "Forgiveness is a process. It is up to you if you forgive the person who has hurt you, Zuko. Choosing not to forgive someone does not make you a bad person. For some, it brings peace. For others, it helps them move on from the pain."
> 
> (Zuko asks Ursa if she has forgiven his father for everything Ozai has done to them. He doesn't get the answer he expects.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are portions of this text where I directly quote dialogue used from "The Search" (one of the continued ATLA comics). Otherwise it's all me :) lol Enjoy!

The water from the bath was soothing against Zuko’s cold skin, letting him melt into a pool warmth. He dunked his head in the water and massaged the soap through his hair. He grabbed a cloth next to the tub and cleaned the rest of his body, taking an extra second or two on the star-shaped scar he bore after saving Katara. Redirecting Azula’s lightning hadn’t gone completely as planned, but Katara was safe.

_I thought about what my mother would want me to do…_

Katara’s voice rang in his ears as he finished washing himself up. Grabbing a towel, he dried himself off and looked into the mirror, eyes lingering on his face.

_I love you._

Zuko winced at the echo.

_I’m proud of you, Zuko._

He winced again, this time shutting his eyes.

_Have you forgiven him?_

_I love you._

_Wait for the inevitable, Fire Lord…_

A small sigh came in a puff of air from his lips. “Alright,” he opened his eyes and touched his scar. “Alright, Mother will have more answers for you. It’ll be okay.”

_He saw his past as a path that made him stronger than anyone else._

Zuko took a deep breath as he put on his Fire Lord attire.

He greeted the staff as he found his way to the dining hall. Whispers of Ozai’s condition had started to drift through the palace. Zuko figured it would only be a matter of time before they’d realize something was wrong. Zuko would not acknowledge it yet though, not now.

“Zuko, my wonderful son,” Ursa stood up from her chair with open arms.

Zuko gave a small smile and performed a quick bow before embracing his mother. “Hello Mother,” he squeezed. “I wasn’t expecting to see you this morning.”

Ursa sat back down while she waited for Iroh to bring them their breakfast. “Iroh told me that you had something you wanted to talk to me about. I wanted to see the garden again before I came to see you.” She gestured for Zuko to take the seat in front of her. “Why were you sleeping on the fountain, Zuko?”

Zuko took a seat and folded his hands on the table. “I haven’t been sleeping very well lately.” He confessed, holding back a yawn. “And last night was one of the rougher nights…So I decided to walk around the palace. I must have fallen asleep on the fountain.”

Ursa placed her hands close to Zuko’s. He could feel her warmth radiate. “You do look tired.” She brushed her knuckles against his. “I was about to tap you on the shoulder when I first saw you. Your face and body were twitching in your sleep. It looked like you were in a lot of pain.” Concern etched his mother’s face.

Zuko sighed and nodded. “It was a bad dream…” The Fire Lord took a deep breath. “Which actually makes this a good transition into what I wanted to talk to you about—”

“Good morning, Zuko!” Iroh plopped two cups of tea in front of them. “Hope you’re in the mood for some nice, hot tea made from the white dragon bush.”

Zuko cocked an eyebrow, wary after Iroh’s last supposed encounter with the bush years ago. “You’re sure it’s not from the white _jade_ bush, Uncle?”

Iroh gave a hearty laugh. “I made sure; I promise you will both be fine.”

Zuko responded with a half-smile. “Alright, if you say so.” He pressed his hands against the full cup in front of him.

Ursa did the same. “Thank you, Iroh. This was very kind of you.”

“It is my pleasure, Ursa. I am so grateful you were able to come visit on such short notice.” Iroh nodded to Ursa and Zuko. “I have to go see my brother now.”

Zuko swallowed, heart heavy.

“I am sure I will see you both later today.”

“I look forward to it.” Ursa waved as Iroh turned to take his leave. “Now, what did you want to talk about, Zuko?”

Zuko took a good look at his mother. Silver slivers wiggled between her beautiful dark brown locks. Tiny wrinkles tugged at the ends of her eyes and the crease of her forehead when she smiled. The sun that shined through the window behind her made it look like she was wearing a halo. She had always been his protector. Always until she was banished…

A small knot wound itself behind Zuko’s navel again. It was uncomfortable but not unfamiliar at this point. _It’s Father’s fault that she left. She had no choice. She saved you. If it hadn’t been for him, she would have—_ He tried to push the thoughts aside before he answered her question. “Yes,” he coughed. “So, like I just said, I haven’t been sleeping much lately. And it’s mostly because…well, actually, it _is_ pretty much because of…um…Father.” Zuko’s gaze dropped from his mother down to his hands, a skill he had mastered since his father’s diagnosis. “Are you okay with me talking to you about him?” His eyes stayed focused on his hands until his mother’s fingers reached out for him, the tips of her fingers resting on his.

“Of course,” Ursa gave a small, slightly concerned smile. “Your uncle has not given me all the details, but from what I have gathered from the staff, it seems like—”

“Father is dying.” Zuko blurted, not giving her the chance to finish, dropping his eyes to the hands in front of him yet again. “And it’s been harder than I thought it was going to be because he…and-and you know what it was like…and it’s just so—” He could feel bits and pieces of salty tears swell in the corner of his eyes. Spirits this was getting old. “I’ve been seeing him, visiting him more often. Uncle and I have been taking turns and it’s been hard seeing him because of everything, and he says things, Mother. Things that he never said to me before.” His eyes closed, screwing themselves shut. “He said he’s _loved_ me this whole time and that he’s _proud_ of me and-and now he can hardly string more than a few phrases together and it’s all just so confusing because you know how he treated me, how he treated us and I’m trying so hard to understand why this is all—”

“Zuko, honey,” Ursa placed her hand gently on his cheek, her other hand wrapping its fingers around his, giving them a tight squeeze. He hadn’t realized how tense he was. His mouth a bit dry from talking so fast without pause. He used his free hand to take a sip from the tea Iroh gave them before his mother spoke again. “It’s a lot to take in.” Ursa gave his hand another squeeze, encouraging Zuko to look at her.

He slowly raised his eyes to her face. Her eyes were glassy, concern still remained in her forehead and cheeks.

“It is…” Zuko affirmed, blinking the tears back into his eyes. He gave his mother’s hand a squeeze back. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” He cleared his throat. “Uncle and I talked. He told me about Father’s past, or at least parts of it.” Zuko took another sip of his tea remembering his dream from last night, the scared little boy who could hardly defend himself instead of the massive giant that branded Zuko’s face in the name of teaching him a lesson.

He cleared his throat as the image faded. “Do you know what Grandfather did to Father and Uncle when they were children?”

Ursa’s face formed a sad frown as she shook her head. “No, no I do not. Your father kept that part of his life as private as he could. But I did see how your grandfather treated your father when we were married.” She took a deep breath. “Your grandfather was not always a kind man.” Her hands pulled back to the tea in front of her, bringing it to her lips so she could take a sip.

“Well, from what Uncle said, it looks like Grandfather was a monster…I guess I shouldn’t be surprised by how Father treated me now…” Zuko mumbled the last part. “I wanted to know if-if you could answer some questions for me.”

_I thought about what my mother would want me to do…_

_Have you forgiven him?_

_I thought about what my mother would want me to do…_

Ursa nodded her head. “You can ask, my dear.”

Zuko dropped his gaze again before bringing them back to his mother’s concerned eyes. “What did you feel when you found out that Father was dying? Or when you suspected that he was dying?”

His mother’s lips parted as she took a shaky breath. “I felt many things at once, Zuko.”

The Fire Lord nodded in agreement. “I did too.” Zuko expanded and talked about the different emotions he felt, how it was overwhelming and how he didn’t know which feeling to focus on. He talked about how he tried to understand why he was feeling what he was feeling, but that he kept coming up with nothing. No explanation had given him a solid reason yet. It was frustrating. “And then Uncle asked me if I’ve forgiven Father…”

Ursa perched a cautious eyebrow. “He did?”

“Yes,” Zuko replied. “And I told him I haven’t…I didn’t think he deserved it…I mean he _doesn’t_ deserve it, right?”

His mother placed her tea down in front of them on the table.

“I mean sure, yeah, he had a horrible childhood…But that doesn’t…that doesn’t mean…”

“It doesn’t excuse his behavior, Zuko,” Ursa finished for him, voice almost stern. “You want to know if I’ve forgiven him for what he’s done, is that right?”

Zuko gave a heavy sigh and pressed his forehead into his hands, elbows on the table. “Yes, I need to know…”

He could hear his mother reposition herself in her chair. She fidgeted some before speaking again. “How about we go for a walk to the garden again? We had great times watching the turtleducks there when you were a boy. I think it would be a good place to talk about this.”

Zuko took his head out of his hands and nodded. “Thank you, Mother. That would be nice.”

The walk to the garden was similar to how it was with his uncle a few weeks ago. Relatively quiet, although this time it was Zuko embracing the silence, giving his mother the time she needed to formulate her thoughts. _This can't be easy for her...Am I being selfish?_

_He saw his past a path that made him stronger than anyone else._

_Have you forgiven him?_

_Maybe this is you trying to figure out what you actually want to feel?_

_I'm proud of you, Zuko._

_I love you._

_I love—_

Zuko cleared his throat once his feet hit the grass of the courtyard. He took a deep breath in. No meetings today so he knew he could take his time with his mother. The Fire Lord sat crisscross at the edge of the pond, the turtleducklings scattering around the surface of the water, the mother close behind. He remained silent while he waited for his mother to speak first. 

"Oh Zuko," she started in a sigh. "Your father and I...As I told you before I came back to the capitol, our marriage was arranged. He could be sweet when he wanted to be…which was not often. More often than not, he was cruel...A trait I believe he adopted from your grandfather." 

Zuko watched as his mother closed her eyes, plopping next to him gracefully. 

"I eventually learned to care for Ozai...After witnessing bits and pieces of what Azulon had done to him, after hearing only fragments of what the elder staff members would say about how Ozai was the less desired prince, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. I learned to care for the broken man inside. There were nights I would wake up to him whimpering.”

Zuko swallowed at her words. The flash of Young Ozai crossed his vision before repeating, “ _Whimpering_?”

Ursa nodded. “Yes, although he never told me the truth, I knew he must have been having cruel nightmares of his past or fears of his future. Granted, he gave me my own nightmares that he inflicted as a means to tame me…which worked to an extent.” Her fists clenched before releasing them. “I also cared for him once you were born. I had never been happier in my life." She opened her eyes and placed a gentle hand on Zuko's shoulder. "You became my whole world, Zuko. And your father helped that happen. Once you started firebending, he cared for you. It was a different type of care than what he had for Azula. I understand that now...I see why, and your grandfather had much to do with that as well." She sighed, her thumb rubbing a small circle on his robe. "But then your father was going to kill you for the throne.” Her voice shook. “He cared more about power and proving himself to Azulon than he did the safety of his wife, son, and daughter." She took her hand away from Zuko, focusing her eyes on the creatures in front of them, shame and fury casting themselves down into her pupils. "Do you remember what I told you when you were a boy? About what a mother turtleduck does to those that threaten her children?"

Zuko looked at the creatures as well. The mother turtleduck swimming in circles around her ducklings. "If someone messes with their babies, they bite back." A smile tugged at the edges of his lips. It was a nice memory. He was a silly child who didn’t know any better, chucking chunks of bread at the turtleducklings not even thinking of the consequences. His mother wrapped him up in her arms, held him tight, held him with love, held him in a way that his father hadn’t in such a long time before then. _She would have done anything to keep you safe,_ Zuko reminded himself.

"Exactly, and that's what I tried to do for you, Zuko..." Ursa scooted closer to her son and guided his head with her pointer finger on his chin so she could look him in his eyes. "I tried to fight for you...I left to save your life...but then...Then Ozai went and..." She cupped Zuko's scarred cheek in her hand, brushing the pad of her thumb over the burn. "Oh my sweet boy..." Tears bubbled up to the rims of her eyes, one tear managing to wiggle free down the side of her face. 

Zuko caught the tear with his index finger and reached a hand up to his mother's wrist. He just held her there, he had to reassure that he was okay. "It's not your fault, Mother." Zuko assured. Tiny tears continued to line her rims, so Zuko repeated himself. "None of this was your fault."

Ursa took her hand away, putting her face in her palms as a soft, quick sob emerged from her chest. "I should have known his cruelty wouldn't end. I didn't care what he did to me so long as you were safe, Zuko." He could hear her take a shakey, hurt-filled breath. "And he continued to mold your sister into a military instrument, used her skills to turn her into a devastating weapon. My little girl..." She shook her head, now dropping her hands down on her kneecaps. Spatters of tear wiped off when she placed her hands on the gown. "What he did to you both...What he did to _my_ children..." There was hot anger in her voice.

Zuko folded his hands in his lap. "It wasn't your fault," he repeated. 

Ursa's eyebrows narrowed as her eyes focused on the mother creature in the pond. "I left you in the care of a monster...I didn’t…I didn’t bite back hard enough"

The Fire Lord didn't know how to handle this. Were these confessions? His mother had nothing to be sorry for. "Mother, you were doing your best to save—"

"But I _didn't_ save you, Zuko! I _couldn’t_ save you from him, not completely…” Ursa squeezed her eyes shut, voice now strained. “Can you ever forgive me?”

Zuko squinted his eyes in confusion. _She wants to be forgiven?_ “You don’t need to be forgiven, Mother. We talked about this when I got you back. You did nothing wrong, you—”

His mother shook her head furiously. “Oh, Zuko, I didn’t save you. I should have taken you and Azula away with me. I shouldn’t have listened to him. We could have all started our new lives together. But instead I did as I was told, I was the only one who held up my end of the deal. Your father wasn’t supposed to hurt you. He promised. Oh I should have known. But what did I do? I ran off…I left you…It’s my fault…If I hadn’t done what—”

“Mother,” Zuko cut her off, grasping her hand in his. His hand was larger now. He only just realized how much he had grown, how much stronger he had become. “You did what you thought was best in the time you had. You did _nothing_ wrong.”

By the look on her face, Zuko could tell Ursa didn’t believe him. Maybe she _had_ done something horrible wrong, something that he didn’t know. If she had done something that was that horrible, he _didn’t_ want to know. Everything she would have done he knew she would have done out of love for him. His mother’s love. He couldn’t stand watching her hurt. Had she been carrying around this pain all this time? Has she been wanting to ask this since he found her with Azula? She was being so hard on herself. Why now?

Ozai. His diagnosis must have triggered this. It’s his fault she’s still hurting. _He_ was the one that should be begging for forgiveness. _He_ is the one who should be sobbing and begging. Not Ursa, not his mother. If she had done anything wrong it was his fault, _his_! Not hers. No matter what anyone else would say, that is what Zuko would hold in his heart. Just because Zuko knew fragments of his father’s past doesn’t mean that he had to go easy on him. Not after what Ozai did to his mother, what he did to his family. Zuko couldn’t let that go. 

He also couldn’t keep watching Ursa blame herself for something that was out of her control. If he had to say he forgave her to give her comfort, he would. “But,” Zuko cleared his throat. “If you _had_ done something wrong, _if_ you had committed some horrific crime in the name of saving me, I would forgive you. I wouldn’t have to give it a second thought.”

“You both were still hurt in different ways,” she continued. “He hurt you both and I wasn’t there to stop him." Ursa clenched her teeth and clutched the fabric of her gown in her free hand as if she hadn’t heard him.

“Mother,” Zuko squeezed her other hand again, this time hard enough to bring her eyes to his. Hers looked so sad, so full of shame and anger. He knew that look oh too well. He saw it nearly every morning in his reflection when I was on those spiritsforsaken ships trying to find Aang, when he was trying to get back his honor…when he was trying to make his father proud…

Zuko brought himself back to the present. “I said I forgive you.”

A small gasp came from Ursa’s lips. The little beads of watery salt swam along the rims of her eyes, slowly trickling off the sides and skidding down her cheeks when she blinked. “You are my brave son.” She bowed her head before looking back at him. It seemed like a wave of subtle relief washed over her. “Thank you, Zuko. You don’t know what those words mean to me.”

Zuko scanned her eyes. The shame had dimmed, it will probably never be completely gone. Just like the shame Zuko still stored from the pain he put so many innocent people through.

He saw anger in her eyes, still very present, burning in her, still residing there. He let go of her hand and placed it gently on her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Ursa patted the tears on her cheek and chin with the sleeve of her gown and nodded. "Yes, yes I’m fine now, thank you.” She cleared her throat and folded her hands. “Now, you wanted to know if I have forgiven your father..."

Zuko nodded back. "Yes...But if you don't want me to know then I completely under—"

"The truth is,” she began, “I forgave him years ago when I got my memories back.” Ursa flattened the sleeves of her gown. “I forgave him for what he did to me. All of the things I sheltered you children from, I have forgiven him for. The fights, the threats, the dark deeds...I saw how his father treated him and I tried to reason that _that_ was why he did what he did to me...Why he made me do what he made me do..."

Whatever that something was, that’s what she was holding back, hidden secrets that Zuko wasn't meant to know, he could tell. She had told him some of the things Ozai did to her before her banishment, but not everything. Zuko didn't push it. He didn’t want to know if she didn’t want him to. If she didn't want to talk about it, he wouldn't make her. Spirits knew that he didn't tell her everything that Ozai had done to him, or what he had done to get back in his father’s good graces. Some things are just too cutting, too embarrassing, too shameful to confess to someone you love.

"So, you _did_ forgive Father?" Zuko clarified, pushing aside whatever thoughts might start to creep up into what might have happened to his mother.

A concealed snarl started to reveal itself on Ursa's lips. He had never seen her angry before, not _this_ type of angry. This wasn’t the same angry he saw when Azula would get in trouble for trying to burn him. It wasn’t the same kind of angry he saw when he booed the actors from the Ember Island Players. It wasn’t the same kind of angry he saw when he almost drowned at the beach after going out too far when she had told him to stay close to shore. No. This anger was something different. This was a mama platypus-bear type of anger. Perhaps it was similar to the type of anger Zuko would feel whenever someone threatened to harm his uncle. Although from the look on his mother’s face, Zuko was sure that type of anger for him was a mere fraction of what his mother was capable of.

Ursa opened her mouth to clarify what she had said. "I forgave him for what he did to me, yes. When I left, I thought I was saving you. I was able to start a new life with Noren and had a beautiful baby girl that adores you." Her knuckles turned ghost white, hands and shoulders shaking. "But-But when I learned of what he did to you and Azula? _That_ was unforgivable." Ursa's voice began to crack. "I can never forgive him for what he did to you."

It felt like Zuko's heart stopped beating for just a moment, processing his mother's words. _She doesn't forgive him for what he did to us...Not just me, but to Azula as well...She doesn't forgive him for what he's done to us...I mean she’s forgiven him, but not completely? Is…Is that even a thing? Can you do that?_

Zuko took a hard swallow, head pounding a little harder than it was before. "Oh..."

Ursa's stiffness softened as she turned to face Zuko. "Forgiveness is a process. It is up to you if you forgive the person who has hurt you, Zuko. Choosing not to forgive someone does not make you a bad person. For some, it brings peace. For others, it helps them move on from the pain." She took a deep breath. "I chose to forgive your father for the vicious things he did to me because I thought it was worth it in the end, because I had you and Azula, and if it hadn't been for him, I would not have been able to give you another sister, I would have never found the first love of my life...Forgiving Ozai helped my transition back to my old life more manageable. In a way, perhaps it was also my own version of revenge. He couldn’t hurt me anymore…I don’t know if I ever told you this, but I saw him when I came back to the palace, when you brought me back home.”

Zuko’s eyes widened as he cocked an eyebrow. “Um, no, I don’t think you did…How, um, how did that go?...Seeing him after all that time?”

Ursa’s face remained unchanged. “I was scared. It was terrifying. I was so, so cold…But I stood my ground. I said my piece. He had threatened to end me, to make me suffer for ever coming back into ‘his’ land. But when I saw him there in his cell…I saw him for who he _really_ was.” It almost looked like a triumphant smile pulled at the corners of her mouth, but if it did, she didn’t show it. “I told him what I saw. I said, _After all these years, I really see you…You’re just a small, small man trying with all your might to be big…Your heart is so small, you’ve no room for your son, or your daughter, or your brother…Or even yourself._ ”

Her speech gave Zuko chills. He wondered if he would have had that strength, if he could have looked at his father and said what she saw. He thought back to the Day of Black Sun, when he confronted Ozai and told him what he thought…Maybe he did share his mother’s bravery. “You’re very brave, Mother…”

Zuko watched as she let the tiny smile form for a brief moment on her lips before bringing them to a serious state. “I told him good-bye after that. I remember him trying to make me come back to him, but I didn’t. I haven’t. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of having the last word.” Ursa took a deep breath in through her nose before letting it pass from in between her lips. “I haven’t seen him since.” She took her eyes away from Zuko and set them on the pond again. “And I couldn't forgive him for what he did to you. I can’t. I refuse to. I do not wish him to suffer...But I cannot forgive him for what he did to you and Azula. I just...I just can't." She blinked a few times before speaking again. "My heart does not harbor hate towards him, but I cannot forgive him for all his actions. And I believe that is okay."

Then Ursa fell silent, letting her confessions linger in the air, leaving Zuko to reflect on her words.

_Forgiveness is a process._

_Choosing not to forgive someone does not make you a bad person._

_Well…FUCK..._ If Zuko's mind had hair, it would have torn it out in a confused mess by now. _How does THIS make sense? How does this help me? Can-Can you only half-forgive someone? I didn’t know that was a thing…GAH! This isn’t how I thought the conversation was going to go! I don’t feel any less confused…SPIRITS WHY IS THIS SO HARD?_

Zuko shook his head, trying to hush his internal thoughts. He rubbed his temples. "I told you that I have felt afraid...” He slightly shifted the focus to his other question. “That that was the feeling I've had the hardest time trying to understand." 

Ursa nodded her head. "Yes, you did."

"Why do you think I'm afraid, Mother?" Zuko turned to face her. "I don't understand. Uncle mentioned forgiveness after I mentioned I was afraid…Do you think they’re connected?"

Ursa gave Zuko another small, sad smile, the type of smile he had become accustomed to seeing by those close to him whenever Ozai was the topic of conversation. "I believe this is where your uncle is right. You might have to find that answer on your own. We can help you, but in the end, it is up to you. You know your heart better than anyone else."

A groaned escaped his lips as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "I was afraid you'd say that..."

_Maybe this is you trying to figure out what you actually want to feel?_

_Forgiveness is a process._

_I love you._

_Maybe this is you trying to figure out what you actually want to feel?_

_Only you have the answers to those questions, Zuko._

_You know your heart better than anyone else._

"Fire Lord Zuko," a guard approached the mother and son. 

Zuko released his nose. "Yes?"

The guard bowed. "I'm sorry to interrupt your time with your mother, but your presence has been requested by Master Katara. She would like to have an audience with you, Jo, and General Iroh. She requested that Ambassador Sokka and Suki be available as well."

Zuko's stomach jumped as he tried his hardest not to seem too eager to talk to her. "Thank you for telling me. I will set aside time this evening for a brief meeting. Can you send word for her to come for dinner? We will have our meal in the throne room."

The guard bowed again. "Yes, Fire Lord."

Ursa stood up and picked off strands of grass that had clung to her gown. "You have wonderful friends, Zuko."

The Fire Lord accompanied his mother and they walked to the fountain. "Yeah, I am very grateful. I don't deserve them...You know I put them through hell...They forgave me for what I did to them…" Zuko looked at his reflection in the fountain's water, brushing his fingers against his scar. 

"Don't pressure yourself to do something you are not ready for, my talented young man." Ursa held his hand. "You will make the right choice that is the best for you. Never let anyone make you feel worse about yourself for making a decision that is the best for you."

Zuko gave his mother's hand a squeeze back. He knew what she was saying. That he should only forgive someone on his time, not theirs. That it is up to him, to follow his heart, to stay true to himself.

_Easier said than done._ His thoughts briefly claimed.

"Thank you, Mother." Zuko pressed this thoughts down as Ursa released his hand.

She smiled as the sun beamed down on them. "I should go check on Kiyi, she has a bending lesson with Master Jeong Jeong later this afternoon."

Zuko gave a half-chuckle. "I still can't believe she convinced him to teach her." He rubbed the back of his neck. "She's really growing up fast, isn't she?"

Ursa grinned. "She's strong and stubborn, just like her big brother." 

Zuko bowed to his mother. "Would you like me to walk you out?"

Ursa nodded. "That would be lovely." She gave Zuko a quick hug. "I love you so much, Zuko."

The Fire Lord hugged her back. "I love you too, Mother."

They walked beside each other until they reached the entrance of the palace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again! I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Please let me know what you thought/what you liked/what you thought I could do better in future chapters. As always, I am always up for suggestions as to how this story could unfold along with other ideas for future fics :) 
> 
> I'm hoping to have Chapter 6 up by the end of January :D


	6. Drowning Voices and Racing Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko could hear Jo take an audible swallow, finishing the last portion of food on her plate. “Oh, um, yes.” Jo cleared her throat and shifted her gate towards Zuko. “Well, Fire Lord, Master Katara found a way that we might be able to…um…heal some parts of Ozai’s condition.”   
> The room turned dead silent.   
> Everyone’s eyes bounced to Zuko’s face.
> 
> (How will Zuko respond when he’s told there might be a chance of healing Ozai?)

Once his mother left, Zuko went back to his chambers to finish reviewing some papers for a meeting he had first thing the next morning. Even after staring at the papers for hours, the details inside them were a little fuzzy. He’d get a few sentences in before his mother’s words bubbled up to the surface of his mind, clouding his concentration. In the back of his head, his brain continued to try and process what his mother had said.

_Forgiveness is a process._

_Choosing not to forgive someone does not make you a bad person._

_Can you ever forgive me?_

_Choosing not to forgive someone does not make you a bad person._

_Choosing not to forgive someone does not make you a bad person._

_Can you ever forgive me?_

“Gah,” Zuko dropped the papers in his hands and rubbed his temples. “I never _really_ forgave her…I don’t think she did anything wrong, nothing horrible, so there was nothing to forgive...” He thought aloud. “But the look on her face…The strain in her voice…She _needed_ it. She needed to _hear_ those words.” His fingers put more pressure into his temples as he rubbed in a circular motion. “My words made her feel better, they gave her comfort…” Zuko let his eyes droop shut.

_Forgiveness is a process._

“If she had done something truly insidious, it still wouldn’t be a process for me. It would just happen. I mean I would forgive her without a second thought…Wouldn’t I?” His fingers slipped off his face and fell to rest on the desk in front of him, his eyes still closed, taking a deep inhale.

_Choosing not to forgive someone does not make you a bad person._

_Have you forgiven him?_

“Ugh!” The breath released itself through a grunt. “But she didn’t know that I _just_ said the words, right? For all she knew I really did forgive her.” Zuko stood up and walked over the small couch next to the foot of his bed, falling with a plop. “I mean _she_ didn’t hurt me, so why would she think I had to forgive her anyways? This was about Father. _He’s_ the one that hurt me. _He_ hurt _our_ family…”

_He saw his past a path that made him stronger than anyone else._

Zuko winced at the reminder, a flicker of his nightmare from the previous night stung the back of his head. His father on the floor, his father being kicked, the welt on his ribs, the fear in his eyes…

_I love you._

Ozai’s smile came in a flash before Zuko blinked it away, the smile that appeared to be full of love and pride, but was it true? Could it be true?

_I’m proud of you, Zuko._

A vision of his father on the cold cell floor getting Jo’s questions wrong punched Zuko in the gut. The frustration in his father’s voice, the look of defeat in his eyes.

_He saw his past as a path that made him stronger than anyone else._

Zuko rubbed his temples again as he gave a heavy sigh. He arched his back so his elbows could rest on the back of the couch. He leaned his head back before hearing a knock at his door.

“Fire Lord Zuko?” That was Suki’s voice.

Zuko stood up with a grunt and walked over to his desk. “Come in, Suki.”

The Kyoshi Warrior opened the door and closed it behind her.

Zuko rolled up the scrolls in front of him before turning his attention to his friend. She was still dressed in her uniform. “It’s late,” Zuko started. “Our meeting with Katara will start soon. I thought you’d be off work by now?”

Suki smiled. “Yeah, but it’s okay. Ty Lee was feeling a little under the weather, so I’m taking her place tonight after dinner. I just wanted to come in and check on you before I headed down.”

Zuko returned a forced smile. “I’m alright,” he lied. “Do you know what Katara wants to talk to us about?”

Suki shrugged. “I’m not sure, but if Jo is going to be there, I think it probably has to do with your father.”

_I thought about what my mother would want me to do…_

_Choosing not to forgive someone does not make you a bad person._

_Wait for the inevitable, Fire Lord…_

_Have you forgiven him?_

_Only you have the answers to those questions, Zuko._

_I love you._

The Fire Lord swallowed. “Yeah, I guess that would make sense…”

Suki frowned. “Are you _sure_ you’re alright? You can talk things through with us.”

Zuko forced another smile back. “Never better,” he could tell it wasn’t convincing, but he was grateful when Suki didn’t push it. “Ready to head down?” Zuko gestured for the door.

Suki nodded. “Probably best if we get there before Sokka, otherwise he’ll eat everything in sight.”

Zuko let out a small, genuine chuckle as they walked down the halls. While they walked, Suki updated Zuko on the newest security ideas she had to make communication between the Kyoshi Warriors more efficient as well as different ways to keep his father secure.

“Why do you need more ways to keep my father safe? Ryder watches over him during the day, and there are guards patrolling the halls every night.”

“Just an extra precaution, Zuko,” Suki held her hands up as a sign of goodwill. “I overheard some of the staff talking. More people are going to find out about your father’s condition one way or another, and I think it would be wise of us to have steps in place to keep him safe from potential assassination attempts.”

Zuko thought about this for a moment as they approached the doors to the throne room. “You have a point…”

“Good evening, Fire Lord,” the guard bowed. “Dinner will be served once everyone has arrived.”

Zuko bowed back. “Thank you very much.” He walked over to the head of the table, choosing to neglect his throne. He was going to be amongst friends, no need to sit above them.

“Hey, Flameo-lord!” Sokka burst in. “Man am I happy you invited us for dinner. Don’t get me wrong, Suks, but your cooking is just not the same as the head chef here.”

Zuko could tell Suki was restraining herself from beating Sokka in front of him. “Maybe if _you_ learned to cook, you wouldn’t feel that way!”

“Zuko!” Katara came in with Jo in her hand.

Zuko’s breath hitched and stomach tightened. Katara came in wearing Fire Nation attire, the red beautiful against her tan skin. Zuko tried to push down the blush he was sure had started to show as he greet her. “Um, hi Katara. Hi Jo,” he held his hand out, gesturing towards the table. “Please, pick any place to sit. Uncle should be joining us soon.”

“Thank you for allowing us to have this meeting, Fire Lord.” Jo bowed before taking a seat. Some strands of her hair were slipping out of her bun. She had tiny, dark rings under her eyes. The healer looked exhausted.

_She must be working harder than usual._ Zuko postulated.

“Are you going to have her keep using your fancy-shmancy title?” Sokka drummed his fingers on the table, interrupting Zuko’s observations.

“Well—” Zuko was about to respond, but Jo beat him to it.

“Oh I wouldn’t feel comfortable calling him anything but that, Ambassador Sokka,” Jo blushed. “You all worked so hard for your positions…They should be acknowledged.”

Sokka shrugged. “Suit yourself,” he looked towards the door. “When’s dinner going to be served?”

“Oh Spirits, Sokka, you just got here.” Katara rolled her eyes with annoyance. “Do you ever _not_ think about food?” Katara folded her arms, taking the seat to the right of Zuko in between him and Jo.

“I do!” Sokka retorted, taking the seat across from her. “I can’t help that dinner was promised and yet I see no dinner.”

The Fire Lord let a smile tug at his lips. It was nice having the gang back together. It felt a little off not having Aang and Toph around, but that was to be expected. There had been recent disagreements between the Earth King and those that lived in the Inner Ring back in Ba Sing Se. Aang had to be the voice of reason, Toph was there as back-up.

“Aw, it looks like I am late again.” Iroh waved to the group as he walked in.

“Uncle!” Zuko greeted. “Dinner should be here soon.”

Iroh patted his stomach. “I am looking forward to it. Chef Rin has been working on something exquisite in the kitchen. I could smell it on my way here. It was intoxicating.”

Sokka’s mouth watered and clapped his hands. “Now _that’s_ what I’m talking about!”

Suki rolled her eyes, taking the seat next to Sokka. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And yet,” Sokka stretched his arms, “You love me.”

Dinner came shortly after Iroh sat down beside Sokka. The beginning of their meal consisted of the group catching up, discussing any new developments in their lives. There became a lull in the conversation about half-way through their dinner. Only the sounds of forks and knives against Fire Nation porcelain plates echoed through the throne room, most of those sounds coming from Sokka.

“So,” Zuko broke the silence, straightening his back. “Katara, you wanted to bring us here to talk about something important?”

Katara swallowed the sip of water she had in her hand and set the glass in front of her. “Yes,” the master waterbender turned to Jo. “Jo, would you like to tell Fire Lord Zuko what we have been going over since we met?”

Zuko could hear Jo take an audible swallow, finishing the last portion of food on her plate. “Oh, um, yes.” Jo cleared her throat and shifted her gate towards Zuko. “Well, Fire Lord, Master Katara found a way that we might be able to…um…heal some parts of Ozai’s condition.”

The room turned dead silent.

Everyone’s eyes bounced to Zuko’s face.

What did his face look like? Zuko wasn’t sure. All he knew was that his heart was beating in his throat and his stomach felt like it dropped below his legs. His focus immediately turned to his uncle, who had his attention on him. The two stared at each other for quite some length without anyone talking. He was sure that the others were probably bouncing their gaze back and forth between Zuko and Iroh, but all Zuko could think about in that moment was… _What-What does this mean?_

Suddenly, he felt a hand on his arm.

Zuko jolted at the touch, only to find that the hand belonged to Katara.

“Zuko, I asked if you were okay.” Katara placed her hand back by her side as she shifted her attention to Iroh. “You both look…different than I thought you would.”

“Oh, don’t mind me,” Iroh stroked his beard thoughtfully. “I was not prepared for this news. I was expecting something far worse.” The beginning of a smile tugged at Iroh’s lips. “This is good news, Katara.”

Zuko directed his attention back to Iroh, a slight scowl on his face. “But _is_ this good news, Uncle?” His heart thumped harder in his throat.

_I love you._

Why was it becoming hard to breathe?

_Wait for the inevitable, Fire Lord…_

Why was his heart racing?

_Wait for the inevitable, Fire Lord…_

The thought of Ozai actually getting better?

_His body will not remember to do simple tasks like breathing or swallowing…_

Does-does he _deserve_ to get better?

_Wait for the inevitable, Fire Lord…_

“Zuko, _Zuko_ , are you okay?” Katara’s hand found its way back onto his shoulder.

Zuko was shivering, head throbbing. His jaw clenched while his knuckles cracked. This isn’t the reaction he thought he would have either. Why was he behaving like this?

“Nephew, try taking a sip of water.” Iroh suggested, pointing to his glass. “Katara, can you please hand him his glass?”

Zuko’s throat felt dry, maybe water would help. He reached for the glass and took a big sip before Katara could get to it.

The air felt numb.

His skin felt the numb.

No, the water didn’t help.

_What does this mean? What does this mean? What does this—?_

“Um, Fire Lord?” Jo interrupted his racing thoughts. “Perhaps if we tell you what we mean by healing parts of his condition, you will have more clarity? Or, um, you’ll feel less…burdened?”

Zuko stared at Jo, jaw still clenched. He thought back to how she looked when he snapped at her the day she asked him to see how Ozai’s condition progressed all those weeks ago. She was scared, stiff. Not that he could blame her after how he had behaved. He hated his temper, a temper that rubbed off from his father. Another thing to be furious about. 

But Zuko released his jaw as best as he could as he took a deep breath. “Yes, yes that sounds like a good idea.” His eyes drifted over to his uncle whose face expressed concern. Zuko closed his eyes and nodded before directing his attention back to Jo.

“Okay, so, Master Katara found that we might be able to alter your father’s ability to communicate…” Jo’s voice was just above a whisper.

_She’s nervous of how I will respond…Spirits, I’m an idiot._

Zuko continued to stare at Jo as her pause lingered.

“Zuko,” Katara patted his hand. “We wouldn’t be able to make the Fade go away. That part would still be there…but you could communicate to your dad. You could talk with him. He would understand you.” There was a gentleness to her voice, a gentleness that spoke levels of how Zuko must have looked. Maybe he looked fragile, like if he thought too much he might fall over.

“How?” He responded. “How can you do that? I thought you could only heal wounds? Like blood?” His hands shook as he spoke.

Katara seemed to notice. She wrapped her fingers around his. Her fingers were warm. Why were his so cold? None of this made sense. “It’s a long explanation, but essentially I believe I can rearrange some of the aspects of his brain where this can work. But before I try, we need your consent.”

Zuko wrapped his fingers around hers, bouncing his eyes between her and Iroh. “What about my uncle’s consent?”

Iroh sighed with a tiny smile. “It would mean a lot to me if I could have another conversation with my brother. I give my consent for you to treat him.”

Katara nodded her head and turned to the Fire Lord. “That just leaves you, Zuko,” Katara stared.

Zuko pulled his hand away and plopped it in his lap. He started at his twiddling thumbs. “Would his personality change?”

Katara perched an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Before Zuko could clarify, Jo jumped in. “I believe he means would Ozai go back to being his old self or remain the version that the Fade might have created…Is that correct, Fire Lord?”

It was hard to swallow when Zuko nodded. “Yes…” He propped his hands back onto the table before reaching for his glass of water. As he picked it up, his hand was shaking. Why was it shaking? Was this fear? Why would he be afraid?

_Have you forgiven him?_

_I love you._

_I’m proud of you, Zuko._

_Maybe this is you trying for figure out what you actually want to feel?_

_I love you._

_I’m proud of—_

“I am not sure…” Katara confessed, interrupting his train of thought. “I believe that I can only heal his ability to communicate.”

Zuko’s head hurt.

Sokka and Suki had been quiet this whole time, uncharacteristic of Sokka for sure.

“Fire Lord,” Jo started. “Perhaps, if you let us try healing this part of him, you will be able to ask him how he feels…Personality is a way that we portray ourselves, how we hold ourselves and view the world…It is possible that, even if his current personality does not change one way or the other, you can still get answers you—”

“What do you know about the answers I want?!” Zuko barked.

Jo sunk her back into her seat, eyes now on her plate.

“Oh shit,” Zuko grunted under his breath. “Jo…I-I’m sorry…I shouldn’t have—”

“I think that my nephew and I need some time to talk alone.” Iroh stood up from the table wearing a gentle, concerned smile. He placed a hand on the back of Jo’s chair. “Would you mind giving us the room?”

The group in front of Zuko nodded and excused themselves.

“You can always swing by the house if you need to talk, buddy.” Sokka reminded before closing the door behind him.

Katara lingered by her seat for an extra moment. “I know you have a lot going on in your head, Zuko.” She took a deep breath. “Jo is trying her hardest to make sure your father—”

“I know, I know,” Zuko groaned, irritated at himself. “I’ll talk with her later. I took out my frustration on her once already. I didn’t mean to do it again.”

Katara patted him on the shoulder. “Take some time with your uncle. Calm yourself down. Jo and I will be at Sokka and Suki’s house. Come by there when you are ready.”

Zuko nodded and gave Katara a bow. “Thank you, Katara.”

And with that she left, closing the door gently behind her as Iroh made his way to take her seat.

“I’m sorry, Uncle,” Zuko rubbed his temples. “I just…I wasn’t prepared to hear this news.” He set his eyes on the plate in front of him. “My hands were shaking.”

Iroh nodded. “I noticed. I wanted to see if you were okay.”

Zuko snorted. “I just lashed out at Jo, I was bitter towards you when you said this was a good thing…So, no, I am not okay.” He crossed his harms, clenching his fists. A flash of his father in the cell flickered in his vision. Zuko blinked, only for that flash to be replaced with an image of his father from his nightmare. He blinked again, his throat contracting, eyes fixated on the space in front of him.

“Nephew,” Iroh placed his hand on Zuko’s shoulder. “You are shivering.”

Was he? He hadn’t even noticed. Although now that his uncle mentioned it, he could feel his skin drop in temperature, his nails digging into the skin of his palms, forcing his eyes shut. “Why am I shivering, Uncle?”

Iroh rubbed his hand up and down Zuko’s shoulder, comforting him, feeling him shiver less and less. “How are you feeling?” He answered Zuko with a question.

Zuko hated it when he did that, but he rolled with it. “I-I don’t know…” He opened his eyes to stare at his glass of water. “Nervous,” he sighed. “I-I feel nervous. My stomach,” his hand gripped onto his stomach. “It feels like there’s knot…It’s felt like there’s been a knot since this whole thing with Father started.”

“Hmm,” Iroh mused. “I wonder what you are nervous about.”

Zuko took a deep breath while letting his mind reflect on his uncle’s prompt. _What am I nervous about?_ He asked himself. Iroh let a layer of silence linger between them to give Zuko time to think. Zuko thought about why he wondered if his father getting better would be a good thing…or why he thought it would be a bad thing. _I mean he wouldn’t really be getting better…He would just be able to understand what I’m saying…and-and he’d be able to tell me what he really thinks…_ Zuko thought back to when he was a child. The memories attached to the different emotions and thoughts that came with them. His father’s words echoed through the corners of his mind.

_You will fight for your honor._

_Your uncle has gotten to you, hasn’t he?_

_How embarrassing for a prince of the Fire Nation to have a NONBENDER as his first born!_

_Rise and FIGHT, Prince Zuko!_

_Don’t you want to know what happened to your mother?_

_You were lucky to be BORN!_

_You WILL learn respect, and SUFFERING will be your teacher!_

_It was to teach you respect!_

_Then you have learned nothing!_

_I love you._

_I’m proud of you, Zuko._

_Then you have learned nothing!_

_I love you._

_You were lucky to be BORN!_

_I love you._

A hiss streamed out of Zuko’s lips as he screwed his eyes shut. His fingers tangled in his hair and tugged the strands at the roots. Each phrase struck a different chord in Zuko. Each one stung and zapped and tore and kicked different areas inside him. Some burned, some taunted, others were like a dagger that stabbed and twisted in the vulnerable parts of his heart and mind. He could feel the shivers coming back as he processed what these emotions and words could mean. He slowly opened his eyes to find his uncle still sitting next to him, hand on his shoulder, thumb rubbing a small circle over his robe.

Iroh nodded his head when Zuko looked him, encouraging him to speak when he was ready.

“I’m nervous—no, I-I’m afraid of what he might say…” Zuko’s confession came as a whisper. Maybe this was why. Why he has been afraid. “I’m afraid of what he might say, Uncle.” He repeated, a little louder this time. He saw Iroh ready to speak, but he interrupted him. “I’m afraid that when he has told me he’s loved me and-and that he’s proud of me…I’m afraid that it’ll all be a lie. Even though I know what he has done is wrong and that he was horrible, regardless of his past, I’m still afraid that what he has said will have been a lie, that he didn’t mean it, that it was the Fade talking and not my father…I’ve wanted him to love me and to be proud of me…I’ve wanted that for so long…I thought I didn’t need it anymore, and-and-and I _don’t_ need it, but-but I _want_ it!” Zuko’s heartrate bounced as his voice raised. His lower lip quivered. Why hadn’t he thought of this before? That actually made sense. It wasn’t until the words were out in the open did it click. He’s afraid that he’ll never have his father’s love or respect, that he’ll never make his father proud.

Right? That would make sense, wouldn’t it?

A gap of silence for reflection gathered between Zuko and his uncle. When Iroh was sure that he would not interrupt Zuko, he spoke. “You still care for my brother’s wellbeing,” he stated. “And you want to know if he cares about you the way you wish he would.”

Zuko nodded at his uncle’s contemplation. “Yes…” The Fire Lord let go of his hair and stared at his reflection of the still water in his glass. His fingers brushed against his scar. “I want to know…but I’m afraid…but I want to know.”

Iroh took a deep breath and slipped his hand off of his nephew. “It is up to you whether or not you would like Katara and Jo to work on my brother’s condition. They need both of us to provide our consent, probably yours more than mine since you are the Fire Lord.” Iroh gave a small chuckle. “And you are a wonderful Fire Lord, Zuko.”

Zuko shrugged at his last comment. “I still think you would have been a better Fire Lord than me, Uncle.”

Iroh shook his head. “The world needed you.” He stood up. “Now, how do you feel after our little chat?”

Zuko grabbed his glass of water and drank it all down. He hadn’t realized how parched he was until he finished the cup. “I’ll go tell Katara that we are on board…I want her to heal Father as best as she can.”

His uncle returned his words with a small smile. “You are a good man, Nephew.”

Zuko swallowed. “…I don’t know if I’d go that far.”

Iroh chuckled and patted Zuko on his back as he got up from his chair. “Let’s go see them together. I’m sure it will make them happy to hear of your decision.”

Zuko nodded and followed his uncle’s lead after telling his guard to notify the kitchen staff that they were finished with their meals.

Iroh told stories from the Jasmine Dragon and what new ideas he had had for tea since coming back to the capitol as they walked to Sokka’s home. While Iroh talked, Zuko couldn’t help the thoughts coming to his head. Maybe after his father had gone through some of Katara’s treatment, the haunting thoughts would fade…

_I thought about what my mother would want me to do…_

_He saw his past a path that made him stronger than anyone else._

_I love you._

_Have you forgiven him?_

_I love you._

_Choosing not to forgive someone does not make you a bad person._

_Only you have the answers to those questions, Zuko._

_Maybe this is you trying to figure out what you actually want to feel?_

_I love you._

_Wait for the inevitable, Fire Lord…_

_You know your heart better than anyone else._

_I’m proud of you, Zuko._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! I hope you're enjoying the story :) I'm not sure when I will have chapter 7 up, but my goal is to have it finished by the end of February. In the meantime, please let me know what you thought of the chapter/the fic thus far :D I always appreciate your comments, they really make my day :) As always, I'm up for any suggestions on what you'd like to see in this fic or future fics! Thanks again for reading <3


	7. Confessions of A Denounced Princess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She took a deep breath. “Mother saw me as a monster...Father saw me as a weapon...Even you didn't see me as a human, Zuko." She turned around, eyes filled with sadness and pain. "You saw me as a threat."
> 
> (Zuko and Azula start to open up to each other after their first time visiting Ozai since he started treatment.)

“Well,” Azula started, tucking a runaway strand of hair behind her ear, “This should be interesting, now shouldn’t it, Zuzu?”

Zuko cringed and slumped his shoulders. “Don’t call me that.” He took a deep breath as they walked into the dungeons. “Jo told me that he has made a lot of progress since the last time we saw him.”

“Wonderful,” Azula smirked. “And to think, I’ve been granted the ability to see him without Sara’s supervision. How gracious of you, oh mighty Fire Lord.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm.

Zuko released a heavy sigh. “Sara and the other nurses said that you don’t need supervision anymore… _Please_ don’t make me regret my decision to bring you here without them.”

Azula rolled her eyes. “So dramatic, as usual, Zuzu,” his sister opened the dungeon door. “I’ve been here two weeks and I have yet to destroy anything, correct?”

Zuko nodded as he followed her lead. “Yes, that’s correct.”

"Then what do you have to worry about?" She flicked her hand to the side as they meandered down the corridors. 

Zuko scratched the back of his neck. "I think it makes Father happy to see you...You were always his favorite."

"Oh please," Azula scoffed. "I see now that he was just _using_ me for his glory, not that I can blame him. I can't help that you were _pathetic_ as a child."

The Fire Lord grimaced at her statement. He was about to rebuttal, but he knew she was right, on some level she was right. His father never failed to remind him of that growing up. 

"Yeah, well, still, seeing you makes him happy." Zuko crossed his arms. He thought back to the first few visits she had with Ozai. Zuko had to supervise her. He didn't want to leave her alone with him. A flash of his father telling her what he was drawing came to Zuko's mind. "What was he drawing?" Zuko whispered.

"What was that, Zuzu? You have to speak up." Azula turned around, hands on hips.

Zuko unfolded his arms and let them hang by his side. "I wanted to know what he told you about his drawing."

Azula arched an eyebrow with a sly smirk on her face. "What? He never told you?" She folded her arms over her chest. Although she looked very smug, Zuko had to admit that it was relieving to see her almost back to normal, or at least what’s considered “normal” for Azula. Soon she wouldn't have to be at that hospital anymore. The thought of letting her live in the palace permanently lingered in the back of his mind every now and then. Maybe they could become friends, put their differences and past grievances behind and start with clean slates. But Zuko knew the chances of that happening were slim. Sure, she hadn't burned the palace down to the ground...yet. However, that didn't mean that her manipulation and thirst for violence had necessarily gone away regardless of what the nurses would say. 

Zuko's shoulders caved as he clenched the sides of his robe. "No...he hasn't. I've asked, but he won't answer. Or at least he didn't before he got worse."

"Hmmm," Azula hummed and tapped her chin. "Interesting. I didn't even have to ask him to tell me. He was very vocal. Going on and _on_ about how sorry he was for how he treated me and—"

The Fire Lord stopped dead in his tracks, angry heat rushing to his fists and cheeks. "He _apologized_ to _you_?!" Zuko practically roared. He threw his hands in the air. "Are you fucking serious?!"

"Oh calm down, Zuzu," Azula rolled her eyes and turned around, continuing her walk to Ozai's cell. "Surely he apologized to you. I mean really, out of the two of us, _you're_ the one that he did the most damage to." She pointed a finger to the left side of her face.

Zuko's chest heaved up and down against his body like a broken war balloon. He couldn't move. An unsuccessfully stifled snarl began to build up in the back of his throat. He had to try to calm himself down. This would be the first time in roughly three weeks that he had seen his father, the first time after he's gone through more treatment. Zuko didn't want the first relatively coherent conversation they have turn into a yelling match. _Azula always lies...Azula always lies..._ He reminded himself. _Maybe Father never said that...This is her trying to get to you. She hasn't changed as much as they think she has._ He tried to reason. "You're lying," Zuko grunted with not as much confidence as he had hoped. "He hasn't apologized to you. You're just—"

"I'm trying to be more honest with you, Zuko." Azula claimed in a sigh, still walking. "You can believe me or not. That's up to you." She flicked her hand to the side again. "By all means, ask Father when you see him. Now, hurry up." 

Zuko growled under his breath as he took deep breaths, steadying his lungs. By the time he got to his father's room, he had calmed himself down as best as he could. 

“Your father is ready to see you, Fire Lord.” Ryder gestured to the door beside him.

“Thank you, Ryder,” Zuko started, “but I’ll let Azula go in first this time.”

An expression between a smirk and gratitude brushed over his little sister’s face. “Really? You’re giving me the privilege to talk to Father first?”

The Fire Lord nodded. “Yes, like I said before, you were his favorite. I think that it’ll make him feel—”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Azula interrupted. She cracked her neck to the side before glaring at Ryder. “Well? Aren’t you going to open the door?”

Zuko pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance as Ryder let Azula into the room. “Thank you,” Zuko expressed gratitude on behalf of his sister.

“It is my pleasure to serve, Fire Lord.” Ryder gave a quick bow before directing his attention back to the wall in front of him.

Azula shut the door behind her with a smirk very present on her face. Zuko was tempted to peer into the room, see how their conversation was going before it even really began, but he refrained from doing so. Instead, he leaned up against the wall, fiddling with his thumbs, trying to keep himself calm. He drew his attention to the ceiling.

Cold.

Damp.

Hard.

Probably what his father’s heart was like if you pried his chest open.

 _No,_ Zuko grumbled to himself. _You can’t think like that…You can’t just…You’re going to give him another chance, you’re going to—_

Azula’s forced laughter came from behind Ozai’s door.

Zuko’s eyebrows furrowed. “Sounds like they’re having fun.” He crossed his arms and slid his back down the wall, landing softly on the stone floor. It, too, was cold, damp, and hard. Zuko leaned his head back and closed his eyes. His heart started to pound a little harder again.

_Have you forgiven him?_

_I love you._

_I’m proud of you, Zuko._

_You were lucky to be BORN!_

_Choosing not to forgive someone does not make you a bad person._

_Wait for the inevitable, Fire Lord…_

“Ugh,” Zuko wrapped his arms around his legs and pulled them into his chest. He glanced up at Ryder, who seemed to be respecting the fact that his Fire Lord needed a few moments to collect himself.

Soon he dropped his forehead against his kneecaps while he waited for Azula to finish with Ozai. _What do I even say? What-What SHOULD I say?_ A heavy weight felt like it was pressing itself down on Zuko’s shoulders and neck.

 _What if he tells me what he really thinks? What he really believes?_ It was becoming hard to breathe again. He had to pull his head off of his knees, but it wouldn’t nudge. It just stayed there, pressing itself harder and harder into the bones of his knees.

 _I shouldn’t care if he thinks I’m a failure. I shouldn’t care! Uncle thinks I’ve done a good job!_ The air in the hall seemed to be getting thinner and thinner.

_But…He’s my father…I don’t need him to…to…B-But I want him to just—_

“Your turn, Zuzu,” Azula’s voice cut off his thoughts.

How much time had passed? He wasn’t sure.

Could have been an hour. Could have been ten minutes. All Zuko knew now was that he had to move.

The gravity that had been pushing against his neck now seemed to be pulling him up to his feet. He looked at Azula, who had her hands on her hips and perched an eyebrow.

“You don’t look so good, Brother,” she narrowed her eyes, tilting her head to the side. “Feeling sick?”

Zuko pressed a hand to his forehead and took a deep breath. “I’m fine,” he waved her off. “Just let me be…”

Azula stepped aside and swapped spots with him. “Whatever you say, Fire Lord.”

Zuko stood outside the door for another moment, taking another deep breath before putting his hand on the doorknob. He turned around to look at his sister who was now leaned up against the wall analyzing her nails.

“What was he like?” Zuko whispered.

There was a brief moment of silence between the siblings. Azula put her hand down and looked back at Zuko. A quick flash of pain flickered over Azula’s face before she answered his question. “I could tell you,” she started, “but it would be better if you found out yourself.”

Zuko was about to protest, but she cut him off, her sharp finger pointing to the room. “No point in prolonging it anymore, Zuko. Go talk to him.” She quickly wrapped her arms around her stomach, turning her head to face down the other end of the corridor, lips now pursed. “I’ll be here waiting for you.”

For a second, it seemed like she wanted to talk to Zuko about something that was bothering her. They had both endured trauma at the hands of their father, just in different ways.

Always in competition with one another.

Always at war with each other.

Always trying to one up the other, Azula always winning.

Always until the end…

But maybe now something could be different?

Zuko sighed and turned around, pushing the door open. It felt like ages had gone by since the last time he set foot in the room, but not much had changed. It was still dark, still damp, still depressing, maybe now a little more so than before, although Zuko knew it should be more hopeful considering the circumstances...

Light poured into the small space, spilling its way to the bars of Ozai’s cell. Ozai’s back was turned towards the door, his form sitting in a slouched position. Zuko took a deep inhale through his nose before letting the air pass between his thin, shaking lips.

“Zuko,” a weak, crackled voice called from within the cell.

A hard gulp was all Zuko could muster.

Ozai’s figure turned around, criss-cross.

Old, muted, ember eyes stared at the Fire Lord.

“Zuko…” A strand of straw twirled between Ozai’s fingers as he spoke to his son. “You are here.”

Zuko nodded silently and turned to close the door behind him. He slowly turned back around, only taking one step towards Ozai. “Father…I….” Zuko’s voice was just above a whisper. He didn’t know how he wanted to start this conversation. It was a little different going to see his father, knowing that Ozai did not truly understand Zuko’s presence or the implications that it could lend. But now? Now, Ozai might have the brain capacity to put the pieces together, to find Zuko’s old pressure points and just press and knead and gnaw until Zuko couldn’t take it anymore. His father did it once, twice, too many times…But maybe…Just maybe…

The straw in Ozai’s hand started to dance its way to the cell’s stone floor. A long sigh rolled out of Ozai when Zuko did not finish his thought. “I did not realize,” Ozai began, “how pathetic I was when we last spoke, when we _really_ spoke.”

Another hard gulp from Zuko as he stared back into the eyes that had the ability to be filled with so much judgement, distain, and rage. Zuko could feel his heart thumping a little harder against his chest. _He’s speaking in full sentences…Father is speaking in full sentences…_

Ozai’s eyes drifted to the straw and appeared to be scribbling something on the stones. “I did not realize,” he continued, “how scared I was.”

Zuko narrowed his eyes and took a step closer. “You were scared?” He prompted, “Scared of what?”

“Come now, Zuko,” Ozai practically rasped, voice heavy with disappointment. “Don’t make me say it.”

Zuko’s mouth ran dry as he said nothing.

The silence evoked a groan from Ozai. He dropped the straw in his grasp and planted both hands on his kneecaps. “I said I was afraid of forgetting you.” The words appeared to make Ozai gag.

A quick wince flashed over Zuko’s face at the reaction Ozai had to his confession.

 _There it is. That’s the look I knew would happen. Of course he didn’t mean it, of course! I fucking knew it…_ Zuko shook his head, trying to regain some composure. He was Fire Lord. He was the one in power. He had to act like it.

Zuko crossed his arms and cleared his throat. “You said you _were_ afraid of forgetting. Past tense.” He pointed out, making his back straight. “Have you changed your mind, Father? Do you regret what you said? Do you wish you could forget me?”

Ozai released another sigh. “Listen here, _Fire Lord_ ,” Ozai let Zuko’s title drip with agitation.

A knot formed behind Zuko’s belly button at his father’s words. This knot was tied with threads of anger, frustration, fear, and anticipation for how the rest of this conversation would unfold. The right words will come out. Zuko had to believe that otherwise the knot would only continue to grow.

“I’m listening,” Zuko uncrossed his arms, keeping his voice steady.

Ozai narrowed his tired eyes as he bowed his head. “I’m…I’m…”

Zuko narrowed his eyes right back. “You’re what? Go on, don’t hold back. Not like you ever did before.” His knuckles cracked. “Azula told me you apologized for what you did to her.”

Ozai’s head shot up, bangs falling into his face, hiding something in his eyes. Zuko couldn’t tell what it was, but there was something.

“Was she telling the truth?” Zuko challenged. “Did you say you’re sorry to her for—?”

“It was a moment of weakness!” Ozai hissed, lunging forward to grip the bars of his cell.

Zuko’s heart pounded harder in his chest, his cheeks and fists started to burn, the threads of anger and fear tangled over top of one another. He had a better sense of where this conversation was going to go. The journey to this place was one that Zuko knew, deep down, could not be avoided.

Now he was here.

There might have been a chance for change, but it looked like that wasn’t going to happen.

Not today.

“I shouldn’t have been sorry.” His father continued grudgingly. “I helped her become the greatest firebender a child could be! While _you_ ,” Ozai scoffed, pointing a dirty fingernail at his son. “You were _hopeless_. Constantly failing at the most _basic_ of forms. You—!”

“I know how you saw me, Father.” Zuko interrupted in a monotone voice. The knot in his stomach continued to jumble in his stomach, but in this moment, Zuko felt like he knew how to handle it. It became apparent that Katara and Jo’s treatment bubbled up Ozai’s old personality, his old self…The realization of this hurt, but it helped Zuko keep his focus on this conversation with his father.

Pushing down the pain, he said, “I know you saw me as a coward, a disgrace, a dishonorable, broken _thing_ that you just couldn’t fix.” He walked closer to the cell.

Ozai really did look pathetic. On his knees, gripping onto the bars while trying to salvage any sense of what he defined as dignity. Oh, Zuko knew that face. It wasn’t unique. He had seen it in himself during his banishment.

…Shame.

That’s what Ozai’s eyes tried to hide: shame.

“And yet,” Ozai almost snarled. “Here you are, before me as _Fire Lord_ of what was once our great nation.” He gestured around the cell.

 _Shame. You’re speaking from a place of shame._ Zuko wanted to snort.

“You’re ashamed, aren’t you?” He said instead, and walked right up to the cell, voice dangerously soft.

Ozai’s response was stunned silence, jaw slightly dropped, eyes glaring.

“Just admit it, Father.” Zuko prodded. “You didn’t mean it when you said you were proud of me, that you love me.” Zuko’s upper lip twitched, trying to control itself from showing the fearful snarl he didn’t realize he had been holding back. “Admit that you’re ashamed of me.”

More silence.

Another long drape of silence.

 _Hmmm,_ Zuko arched a cautious eyebrow as he looked down at the broken man before him. “Or maybe you’re not ashamed of _me_ anymore…You’re ashamed of something else…or _someone_ else…Is that it?”

Ozai replied with his eyes dropping to the floor and more silence, laying it thick in the small cell, slowly letting it consume them, enveloping them, growing thicker and thicker by the second. A contemptuous, disgusted look wrapped around the sick man’s face.

 _It’s him…He’s ashamed of himself…_ This possibility made Zuko widen his eyes and lips part. He took an unsteady breath, trying to decide whether to push the topic any more than he already had. After a few more agonizing seconds of haunting quietness, Zuko sighed. “You don’t have to answer,” the Fire Lord stated. “I’ll leave you now. I’ll come back later this week…Maybe after you see Uncle.” Zuko turned his back to walk out of the room. “Good-bye, Father.”

He almost turned back around to see if the look on Ozai’s face had changed, but no. He wouldn’t. Zuko was done for today.

He stepped out into the hall, Azula waiting as promised.

She perked her eyes up from her nails, still leaned back against the wall. “Well, how did your chat with our dearest father go, Zuzu?”

Zuko ignored her comment. “Close the door, Ryder.” His voice was low and disappointed. “We’ll be back in a few days.”

Ryder nodded and did as he was instructed.

“What? You’re not going to tell me how it went?” Azula crossed her arms, the slightest glint of genuine curiosity in her tone.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Zuko walked towards the exit.

“Oh please, you were practically begging me to tell you how it was when I saw him.” Azula followed her brother down the corridor. “Let me guess, he told you the truth. You’re upset that he did apologize to me, aren’t you?” She released a half-chuckle as Zuko kept his back to her. “Brother, please, that means he must have also told you _why_ he apologized, correct?”

Zuko slowed down his pace and gently turned his head to the side so he could make eye contact with his sister. Her eyes showed a shimmer of pain, pain she had tried to hide earlier. How could the other members of his family be so good at hiding their feelings?

“He told me it was a mistake.” Zuko responded. “That it was a moment of weakness.”

Azula stopped walking all together, evoking a similar stance from Zuko. “That is correct…” Her confirmation lingered for a few moments before she cracked her neck and proceeded to pass Zuko. “Not that I care.” She lied, Zuko knew that was a lie.

He followed closely behind her until they were walking side by side. “It’s okay to admit he hurt you, Azula.” Zuko decided to mention. “He—”

“He what, Zuko?” Azula kept her eyes forward.

Zuko scratched the back of his head as he tried to formulate the best way to express what he wanted to say. "He hurt us both," Zuko finally said.

He watched as Azula straightened her back, as if this would make her appear stronger, trying to squash the scared little girl Zuko knew still resided in her. "He used me," she muttered in as casual of a tone as she could manage. "There's a difference between being used and being hurt."

Zuko was about to protest and challenge her statement, but instead he held his breath before letting it out, allowing some reflective silence to gather around them.

The two walked in that awkward silence until they reached the outside of the dungeons. Dark clouds peppered the sky. Two strikes of lightning crackled in the distance. They could both see the rain slowly working its way towards the palace. 

"I rearranged my schedule before we came here," Zuko broke the quiet after clearing his throat. "I thought maybe we could talk about today...At dinner...I arranged for us to have it in the throne room."

Azula pursed her lips and crossed her arms before cocking her head to glance at Zuko. "How gracious of you to think of me, Brother. But I don't need someone to talk to. I've talked enough at that lovely asylum you put me in."

A pang of guilt pricked his stomach at her words. _It was to keep her safe. It was to keep others safe...I had to do it..._

"I'm fine." She directed her attention back to the clouds in front of them. "Besides," she stroked her bangs to frame the sides of her face. "We haven't exactly had family dinners for quite some time. Why start it now?"

Zuko shrugged despite her eyes being elsewhere. "I just thought it would be something important for us to do...No guards, no servants, no parents, just the two of us." He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "You're still my little sister, Azula. After all is said and done, you're still my sister." He thought she would turn around, slap his hand out of the way or push him down and finally take the time to unleash the lightning he was sure must have been building up inside her...

…But she didn't. 

Instead, he felt her shoulder fall, a weak sigh cracking as it left her body. "You know," Azula kept her eyes to the clouds. "When it finally clicked that Father saw me as a precious tool to turn himself into a god, it _did_ hurt, I will confirm that...” She took a deep breath. “Mother saw me as a monster...Father saw me as a weapon...Even _you_ didn't see me as a human, Zuko." She turned around, eyes filled with sadness and pain. "You saw me as a threat."

"That's because you _were_ a threat." Zuko said without thinking. 

Her face remained unchanged, except for her eyes. A shine of tears swelled in the corner of her eyes. When was the last time he saw her cry?

 _When she lost our Agni Kai...The day she lost everything..._ Zuko recalled.

"Well, I can't help that I was better than you at everything." She blinked, one tear escaping. Azula was quick to flick the tear away. "Do you know what it was like? Needing to be Father's perfect child all the time?" 

Zuko grimaced, clenching his fists at his sides. "You know I wouldn't."

"Exactly," Azula scoffed, pressing a hand to her chest. "Well, let me tell you, _Brother_ , it wasn't all you think it was cracked up to be." She turned back around, staring straight into the storm approaching them. "I saw what he did to you when you stepped out of line. Do you think I wanted that same fate?" 

Zuko hadn't thought about that before...

"No, of course you didn't think about that. My weak big brother only thought about appeasing our almighty father." Azula chuckled scornfully. 

Another shot of lightning crackled, this one closer than the previous two.

"Mother loved you more than me."

"That's not true!" Zuko argued.

"Oh, you're a horrible liar, Zuzu." Azula sneered. "I'm surprised those foolish peasants in Ba Sing Se didn't see right through your little tea boy charade." She cracked her neck again. "But what does it matter? I didn't have anyone. I don’t need anyone."

"You had Ty Lee and Mai." Zuko offered, fists still clenched. "You had them in your corner and then you ruined it by—" 

"I did what was best because they were going to leave me too! It was only a matter of time!" Azula shouted to the sky. She took off walking back to the palace in a huff. Zuko chased after her. "You don't get it, do you, _Fire Lord_?"

Zuko growled as he approached her. "Don't get what, Azula?"

"You don't get what it was like!" She growled back over her shoulder. "I had to be _perfect_ , keep the image of what Father saw in me. When Mother was banished, where did that leave me? Not that that mattered either. Again, she loved _you_ , she cared for _you_...At least you had actual love from one of our cherished parents. Father saw me as a _thing_. Mother saw me as a disaster…I bet she wished she had never had me...She despised me."

"None of that is true and you know it!" Zuko reached for Azula's hand but she recoiled it out of his grasp.

"Oh, I do, hm?" Azula picked up her pace. 

"She told you she was sorry for leaving! She loves you!" Zuko walked faster to keep up with her. "You should have heard her the other day. She said that she wished for our forgiveness, that she blames herself for not stopping Father from doing what he did to us!"

Small drops of rain started to descend from the storm clouds above them. 

"Funny," Azula snorted. "I don't remember her giving me this lovely confession."

"You haven't given her the chance!" Zuko pointed out. 

"Well, what do you know? For once, you're actually right about something." Azula proceeded to increase her walking speed. "Hurry up, Zuzu. You're the one that insisted we didn't have those guards carry us around. I refuse to get wetter than I need to."

Zuko matched Azula's speed as they got closer to the palace. 

The rest of the run back was in silence aside from heavy competitive panting between the siblings. Even their way back seemed like a contest to see who would get back first. As usual, Azula won. She tugged her hair out of its top knot so she could squeeze the water out. "I'm going to bathe to get this filth off of me."

Zuko nodded his head, still panting. "I’ll do the same."

Their royal clothes dripped on the floor as they walked back to their respective rooms. As Zuko walked by Azula's designated chambers, she said, "...Did you mean it?"

Zuko stopped in his tracks, boots squeaking against the polished tiles. "Mean what?"

Azula sighed heavily. "Did you mean it when you said you wanted me to have dinner with you? For us to talk?"

A smile tugged at the corner of Zuko's lips, but he chose not to show it. "Yes, I did."

Azula nodded and opened her door. "Very well...I'll join you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi you lovely people! :D Thank you for reading! My plan is to have Chapter 8 up by the end of March *crosses fingers* In the meantime, please let me know what you think of the fic so far! I know this was a shorter chapter, but I didn't want to leave ya hanging for too long :) As always, I'm up for any suggestions for where this fic could go, along with suggestions for just other fics in general! *puts up a high-five*
> 
> Thank you again!


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